The Ties That Bind
by Magus101
Summary: AU: Sabretooth finally kills one of the XMen someone close to Wolverine yet that person comes back from the grave to haunt him. What's a killer feral got to do to get rid of a yellow trench coat wearin' specter?
1. Midnight Canvas

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Marvel Character -- I only get inspiration from them. 

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The mixture of darkness and white sparks intertwined as the sound of crunching leaves quickened. Puffs of white smoke came up from the sky as its originator smiled through his sharpened teeth.

The bloodthirsty assassin named Sabretooth did it -- he finally did it. The smell of Wolverine's frail rose from his hands. Jubilee died right in front of the man that supposed to protect her. When he felt her spasm under his adamantium tipped claws and hear the horrer stricken scream of agony coming from his rival -- his grin became wider.

His rivals face became etched in Sabretooth's mind as he limped into his cabin -- wounds covering his body, but slowly healing. Logan berserker rage was no match for the traps he set up for his escape.

Now he walked into his own cabin -- just to get what he came for and leave -- beer. He took a cold brewski from the fridge when...

"Ya know furball that hurt when you gutted me..."

Sabretooth's turned suddenly to see only the darkness and dankness of the room. He sniffed the air and his senses didn't pick up anything. He blinked and looked around again and saw nothing, smelled nothing. He shrugged it off and open the can, foam spraying everywhere.

"And ta drink a congratulation beer -- wow this must be some party..."

He heard it again -- it sounded like that frails voice, Jubilee. He must be going crazy...

"Can't see me -- I'm right here buddy," He turned to see where the voice came from, and there she was -- Jubilee sitting next to him, looking bored and not injured.

Instinctually, he lunged at her. Jubilee didn't flinch as Sabretooth went through her and landed face first to the floor.

He saw Jubilee get up, "Ya can't hurt me furball, cause you killed me."

Sabretooth sneered, "You're dead frail, get out of here."

Jubilee looked down at him in contempt, "I wish I could, but I'm havin' too much fun here and I ain't plannin' ta leave anytime soon" She announced with a little bit of defiance, revenge, regret and a huge grin on her face. 


	2. Simple Recourse

Sabretooth growled at what the frail said -- but smiled when he realized something. He went through her, so it must work the other way around.

"So what," he retorted, "it ain't like you can do anything to me." He unsheathed his claws ready to leave the cabin and go on with his life.

"Oh really," Jubilee said in a quiet tone, but he picked up a slyness to it. 

Suddenly his vision darkened and his senses fluctuated. He felt a warmth in his core that he never felt before; yet, he couldn't smell or taste anything. Creed struggled to get out of this situation, but to no avail. His vision started to come back and focus upon something.

* * *

He saw a vision of his enemy, Logan, he growled in anticipation, yet his enemy didn't do the same. Logan smiled at him. 

Confused, Sabretooth tried to move but couldn't. Logan came over to him and put his arms around him, "It's all right darlin', everything's going to be okay," Sabretooth heard crying -- but not his own. He looked down and saw this wasn't his body, but....

* * *

He awoke, thunder boomed outside. How long was he out? He groggily got up as lightning flashed into the room. He really needed to piss and he didn't bother to turn on the lights. After he was done, he licked his dry lips. Maybe the whole thing with the frail was a dream, he reasoned as he walked past the mirror. Lightning flashed again...then he saw it.

"How'd you like the look furball, who'd a thought you'd look so nice in pink," The familiar voice taunted, he looked at that direction slowly -- a small Asian face was next to his, smiling. Losing his cool he destroyed the mirror as he ripped some things out of his hair.

Pink bows flittered to the ground like butterflies migrating south. 


	3. Drowning it Out

After a couple minutes of swearing to himself and ripping out pieces of his hiar that had contact with a pink bow, he looked up to see the specter smiling at him.  
  
"So what'ya want to leave me alone," he demanded from the form in front of him. He saw her slowly pace back and forth, contemplating his demands.  
  
"I haven't decided yet," that simple reply made him enraged even more.  
  
"What'ya mean 'I haven't decided yet'" he yelled back at her as he saw her saunter over to his couch and lay down on it.  
  
"Wouldn't it be fun ta just ruin yer 'good name' -- 'Sabretooth the furniture designer' sounds good doesn't it," she explained her thoughts out loud and leaning back with a smile plastered on her face.  
  
So he was stuck with her -- this couldn't be real. He just got up, got his trench coat while not making eye contact with 'the frail' and left the cabin slamming the door as he left. He walked a couple miles and looked back. For the first time after he awoke -- he smirked. No frail behind him. He walked onward, repeating to him what happened just didn't -- an illusion -- that's all it was.  
  
* * *  
  
He ended up at the one place that could make him forget. He entered and felt the smoke wafting in the air and the replaceable furniture all around, this bar would be suitable.  
  
He sat at the nearest bar stool and ordered shots of vodka. After the first, he tried reasoning to himself, but he never had illusions of the frails he killed -- ever. Well maybe some euphoric glee, but...  
  
When he got to the third shot, he already shrugged it off and focused on the next job he had to do for a client. He looked in the vodka, when a familiar figure became clear within the bottom of the glass.  
  
"Miss me," she asked as the annoyed Creed threw the glass in a random direction; the crash made him feel better.  
  
"This ain't a dream furball, you can't get rid of me that easily," He heard right next to him. There she was on the next barstool looking the other direction.  
  
"Frail, don't tempt me to --," his reply was cut short when he felt a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"You gotta problem punk," a greasy tough man with a couple of newly formed scratches on his face.  
  
Sabretooth grinned, "No, now ya have one," his fist connected to the man and he felt something hit his side. The patrons of the bar weren't pleased at what happened. A bar fight ensued.  
  
This is where Sabretooth was most comfortable, broken noses, crushed faces and screams of agony in various corners. He did them all as a wide grin came across his face -- only one other thing would make him truly happy.  
  
He turned to the next unlucky body that was in his way and decided it'd look better with a couple of added holes in it. When his claws were going to strike its mark an Asian face appeared in front of him. The shock made him go back a little.  
  
"I wouldn't do that if I were ya, unless you would like a polka dot dress to add to those nice pink bows I added earlier." The threat was made.  
  
He growled as he ran out of the bar, leaving a pile of hurting behind him.  
  
* * *  
  
He ran as fast as he could but he couldn't escape. The frail was floating next to him the whole time -- not saying anything. He was losing his mind and he only knew one guy that would know what's going on.  
  
"Where we going now furball," the feminine voice interrupted his thoughts.  
  
He growled in reply as he traveled towards the lab of Mr. Sinister -- he'd be glad when this is all over with. 


	4. Insight

"...And girls just wanna have fun." The out of tune voice rang in his mind.  
  
He'd give anything to shut that trap that was the frails mouth. Unfortunately, he didn't know how to shut up a ghost -- or at least it could be. She sang those horrid eighties songs all night, all morning and back into the night.  
  
He cursed himself for just running out of the bar without any wheels. He tried to steal some, but the threat always came -- he didn't want to be in pink bows and a polka dot dress. The alternative to wheels, walking. Not that it was a problem for him, he'd always enjoyed the silence -- yet this was anything but silent.  
  
"Shut up frail," He demanded her angrily again for the hundredth time.  
  
"What...One more time...alright -- Girls just wanna have fun," the specter sang in front of him with a big grin on her face.  
  
All he could do is growl and walk through her, which gave him little satisfaction. "I can't wait ta get rid of ya," he grumbled underneath his lips.  
  
"I heard that," he heard the shrill yell of acknowledgment. He shook his head as he walked on. A smell of fresh meat filled the air. He grinned in anticipation; he hadn't eaten for a while -- not since he gutted the girl. He followed the sent to the middle of the woods.  
  
A campfire blazed in the middle of the night as he noticed couples sitting around the campfire. This should be easy...  
  
"Hungry furball," The voice shot up out of nowhere. He grimaced as he thought he was caught, but noticed that the couples paid no attention to him. He moved silently towards the food as he got near to the couples.  
  
He leapt and growled, then everything went to that familiar darkness and warmth he felt earlier.  
  
* * *  
  
*So this is how the frail feels* he thought as he saw that his form was a lot shorter than last time and black hair covering his eyes.  
  
"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy..." A voice squeaked out of him as his form ran into a room filled with expensive items and trinkets. He saw his form bump into something and he heard a crash.  
  
The form looked around as it tired to run but was stopped by something. During Creeds world travels, he learned some Mandarin and some Cantonese -- and what he was hearing he heard at any dirt bag bar in ever.  
  
"No...No..." The voice begged, and Creed knew why. The form was being forced to stairs that lead to an abyss. He saw the room tumble as things began to get darker and darker -- till his vision was completely dark and all he could hear was sobbing.  
  
* * *  
  
He awoke to find all the couples gone and the food still remaining -- no sight of the frail. He instinctively checked for anything on him, nothing. He growled as he yanked off the food above the fire and started to eat it.  
  
"Damn kid probably deserved it," he grumbled to himself, as he didn't care who saw him eat. 


	5. Eternal Flame

He yawned as he got up where he slept. There were cinders still near the fire -- he knew how to take care of that. A smile emerged on his face as he unzipped his pants

A sound of water started to sizzle on the cinders as he made a nice sigh.

"How nice, tryin' to save the forest now are we?" He heard the voice behind him. He turned to see her was looking away.

"Aren't we shy kid," he retorted as he shook what was left and started to walk away. Suddenly, she was right next to him walking beside him.

"What's up with the formality furball, ain't like were chums," She annoyingly pointed out to him, "And where are the hell we're goin' anyways, you didn't answer my question."

He let out a low growl, he'd be glad to get rid of this annoying china doll and get back to killing. His claws twitched a little -- it's been that long.

"Frail, I don't answer to nobody, especially to you." he pointed out but never really making eye contact with her. Only a days travel and they would be a Sinister's.

"Well," a peachy voice broke the few seconds of silence," Now I'd like ta bring ya the Bangles, 'Eternal Flame': Close ya eyes/give me your hand, darlin..."

He growled as he picked up the pace. He needed to kill something, anything, then he looked over to the apparition -- maybe he'd wait a couple more days till he killed something. Ain't worth it to get another one like her haunting him.


	6. Results May Vary

Sinister had to move his base constantly. All the enemies he made along the way made him an easy target; yet, Sinister always called him for jobs, making Sabretooth know where he was at all times. First thing he'd do after he got this thing out of his mind, destroy every copy of eighties pop music -- ever.

"So whose place is this," He heard her say indignantly.

He ignored her as he stepped to the door -- he knew Sinister tracked his movement. The doors opened automatically as a person he didn't know ushered him in, which probably was a new marauder recruit.

When Sinister came to view, he'd thought the frail would at least be shocked -- but rather the opposite -- she looked bored.

"So Sabretooth, what brings you here," Sinister asked with all his pearly whites showing.

"I need ya to check out my mind out -- it ain't workin' right," to anyone different, it would've sounded like a demand. Sinster's look said otherwise.

"Alright Sabretooth, I won't ask questions why, as long as I get something in return with no questions asked," He saw Sinister clasp his hands as he lead him to his lab.

+ + +

A few hours later...

He never liked labs, but for this case -- he'd endure it for a while. The whole time the frail was silent -- just looking bored.

Sinister entered the room. He saw Sinister go through results page after page, which gave him hope that Sinister knew what was going on. He waited expectantly on the lab table for the results.

"Sorry Creed, all the tests show that you're at top health and nothing has changed," he threw the pages to Sabretooth's direction. Creed took painstakingly amount of time looking over the details.

"Take 'em again," he threw the papers back to Sinister. Sinister's reaction was only a smile.

"You know that means a bigger favor," Sinister slyly added. Sabretooth growled in acceptance.

+ + +

More agonizing hours later.

Same tests, same results, same bored look. He ripped up the results in front of a grinning Sinister. He was in debt to him for something he couldn't find.

Another set of papers was sent his way, "I don't care how you do it, and I want this mutant here in a week -- alive." 

Sabrtooth looked through the papers, a familiar face and name appeared, "Sorry. no can do Sinny, she's dead." He said with a grin.

Nathaniel Essex lost some composure, "How do you know this?"

"I gutted her good," his response made him smile, then saw the frails face -- she yawned. His smile drooped a little.

Sinister looked over to a computer screen, "your lying...wait no."

With his acute eyesight he saw what was on the screen. The X-men started to lower a coffin into the ground. Most of them were crying or trying to fight the tears. He saw the runt throwing his cowboy hat in as the coffin made a final stop. The runt popped his claws and Sabretooth read his lips -- Creed yer going to pay. The tombstone became visible, Jubilation 'Jubilee' Lee -- beloved friend that was taken too soon.

Creed smirked at his handiwork and obviously Sinister wasn't feeling the same way. He looked over to the ghost -- still bored as ever.


	7. Juxtapose

Why couldn't he just say to Sinister, "Hey there's a specter of the frail hangin' beside me, she sings eighties songs like a yowlin' cat bein' torn limb by limb by my claws -- and it ain't somethin' he want to deal with ever!?"

The sentence would've come out of his mouth, except for the fact that the geneticist foricbly prompted his exodus with a teleporter. Now he was in a place he knew, but very, very far away from Sinister's labratory.

Sabretooth growled at the thought of that genetic freak doing that to him, but he had other pressing confirmations to deal with. Specifically, all those tests were positive and it stated that he had no physical damage done to his brain; therefore, he had to think of another option. Looking around the surrounding nature -- unmared trees standing silently as the breeze blew through them, a transparent stream steadily flowed in front of him -- he noted that humanity didn't touch this part of this land and it'd be a while till he got to a town to contact anyone else on his problem

The exact moment he thought this, the apparition popped up in front of him. "Where we going now furball," On queue, the frail chimed in her two cents.

He was at a lost on what to say; however, the only thing that popped into his mind was the job he got from a client before he killed the frail "I got work ta do, so don't get in my way frail," Sabretooth snarled at her. He had a decent record of killing people and he wasn't going to tarnish it by a ghost around him.

"Where's that at," he heard her asked more bored than ever -- just like at Sinisters. He swore he felt a little twinge go down his spine, but he shook it off. That bored look, the ever present look that started to make his blood boil. If only he could get away from...

A smile grew on his face as an idea formed in his mind to deter the youthful specter's cool demeanor," Ain't got ta tell ya that too frail, ain't like I'm your father," He made sure he turned around to see her reaction.

Her face contorted from boredom to anger in an instant, but quickly turned to boredom, "Ah did I touch a soft spot frail," he sarcastically jibbed at her as he saw her walk by him, "didn't daddy tell ya where he went when he abandoned ya," like revving up the engine -- he saw the frail stop and turn to him -- rage filled her.

Now was the time for the strike, "if ya can't take the truth frail, then just leave," he knew he put the frail in check -- now what was her move.

He saw her run towards her in great speed -- then things became dark again.

* * *

*Eh the frails older in this one, she filled out* the thought arose as he was once again the viewer of what was going on.

The form was stuck in what seemed to be a lab. Internally, he sneered as he had no choice but to watch.

"Jubilee, you know this is futile, why don't you just tell me some secrets about the X-men" a unknown male voice arose out of nowhere.

Tears started to fall from the forms face as the restraints started to seem like it became tighter and cut off her circulation.

"I ain't tellin' you nothin' Bastion," Her defiant voice puzzled the on looking Creed -- something wasn't right about this picture and what the 'person' was now...

* * * 

...and once again he woke up, this time he remembered his surroundings -- the same exact spot in the woods as when he blanked out seconds ago except the sun started to rise -- did the frail control his body that long?

Just on que she stood in front of him, "had a good time rummigin' in that noggin of mine -- find anythin' good ta use against me this time furball," she stated light-heartedly as she beamed an eerie smile and started to float closer to him

"Look it surprised me tha first time, but it ain't gonna work a second time furball," she announced as she suddenly went through him, making him jump back.

"It always gonna work frail cause I saw ya cryin' like a little baby when ya were tied up," Sabretooth retorted back with a growl as he saw her go through him again.

"So ya saw me bein' interrogated by a guy, ya know how many times that happened when I was with the X-men," she rolled her eyes at the thought of it, but continued anyways, "but at least it ain't as bad as what you went through..."

Sabretooth suddenly became aware of this new information, "whatrya tryin' ta say frail," he started breathing harder and harder as his heart was about to leap out of his chest in anticipation.

"Oh like I'd tell ya what I mean," Jubilee winked at him,"when ya don't even have the common decency ta tell me where the hell are ya goin'"

Sabretooth growled as he stomped right through her, he had to think of another plan to get rid of this ghoul --

"Oh furball, where we goin'?"

-- and soon.


	8. First Step

Shaking his head back and forth, why couldn't he have killed the frail later? He had to kill her right there. Of course he didn't regret it, but her apparition started to grate his nerves with the songs of early nineties and inane questions.

What could he do about it though? If the it was anyone else doing this he would've gutted him so fast that she wouldn't beg for mercy, of course they had to be alive first...

Now as the hours passed since they traveled from Sinister's lab into scenic forest, he was at wits end on how to make the pest go away. Then he started thinking of all the times where he had to work with people that annoyed him -- Magneto and the brotherhood came to mind...

Then another brilliant idea popped back in his mind. If ya can't beat them join 'em, or make 'em believe you joined 'em. Things would be simplier, he'd make the frail believe he cares, she'll let up a little, then when she didn't see it -- he'd find out how to get rid of her.

He clasped his hands and smile maliciously, plotting on how to start this plan.

"Whatcha thinking their furball," He heard her ask as he form flew in front of him.

"Nothin', Jubilee," First action of trust, use the frails name. He smirked as he saw her do a double take.

"Yes furball my name is Jubilee -- and what right do ya got callin me like that," She seemed apprehensive, he wouldn't trust himself either; but, he had to stick to the plan. No matter how annoyed he got.

"I can't call ya frail forever now can I" He retorted in a non-joking manner. He decided to give a little more 'trust' as he saw night fall, "d'ya mind -- I gotta go find food" he asked her.

He saw the dumbfounded frail nod as he went to look for his prey. He got a good distance as he gained a little leeway, but a step towards the freedom he desired.

+ + + Moonlight reflected off the babbling brook. The hoot of owl, echoed into the dabbled canvas. A shrieking howl awakens the night, the predator is out for prey.

He scanned the area with his olfactory senses -- deer were here. He growled to himself as he stealthily followed the tracks that the moonlight lit.

The babbling brook talked louder as a deer came to view. He hid beneath the foliage. The deer looked healthy as it perked its ears for danger, then slowly lowering its head for a drink of water.

He urged closer to the prey. Slowly and surely getting closer. A growl, a leap, a slash, and a last gasp of air -- the prey didn't have the chance.

He looked over its carcass. He cursed himself under his breath, he'd rather see the fear in its eyes and pain shudder throughout its body -- yet he felt eyes upon the scene. He looked behind him. The frail stood behind him.

"Ya know ya should cook it before ya eat it -- it could have rabies or somethin'," her patronizing voice made him growled internally. She knew that he had a healing factor and she knew he'd like to eat this thing raw. Her attempts to provoke him fueled his desire to provoke her the only way he knew.

"Yer right Jubilee," He quickly stated, "Ya mind watching this, I gotta get some firewood." He saw her become confused when she nodded.

On queue, he went off to look for wood to start a fire. He smirked a little. The frails confusion imprinted on his mind, his plan started to plot out nicely.

+ + + Deer meat cooking on an open fire, the smell made his mouth water for a bite. He looked over to the frail near the campfire; the light from it didn't illuminate any part of here. He'd never believed in ghosts, but there was one in front of him.

"So what's it feel like bein' dead Jubilee?" He asked in a solemn tone. He noticed how she went into the "thinkers pose" for a second.

"I ain't hungry, tired, nothin' like that," he saw her get up and go directly to the fire. Instinctively, he got up a little when the frail became engulfed in flames, but her face wasn't in anguish -- a pity, "I can't feel, taste, smell nothin' either."

He nodded, well that's the only thing he could do. Her coolness through this experience became questionable.

The oddness of the situation calmed his nerves a litt, "Why aren't ya controllin' my body frail -- get what ya want faster?" the question just came out of his mind. He cursed too himself mentally -- he didn't mean to say it out loud. This weakness came out from his comfort, surely the frail would notice and catch onto his plan, yet when he looked up the frail smiled at him

"Like I said furball, I got an eternity to get back at ya -- imagine havin' pictures sent to the X-men of you wearing pink bows and skirts," She actually teased him about it.

He scowled at the thought -- pink bows and skirts weren't his style. After that disturbing thought, he realized she didn't answer the question, but went around it. He was going to push it when the frail interrupted his thoughts.

"My turn for this 'twenty question round' furball, where are we going' -- it ain't like you said anything before," she shrugged her shoulders.

He didn't like to give out information, at all, give a little...

"L.A. Jubilee," that's all he said, but that was enough to get a glint of happiness out of her.

"I can't believe it," she got out of the flames and sat down on the log away from him, she sighed to herself, "what business you got there furball?"

"You'll find out when we get there," he answered automatically. He saw her nod as she was about to open her mouth.

"Foods done Jubilee, I don't talk while I eat," He grabbed the meat off the fire and started to dig in. 

"Too bad, I do," she interrupted his eating habits -- he didn't like that. He sneered at her, hunger taking over his plan. He was about to say something, but he just bit into the deer flesh. 

He kept eating his food, "So what ya got ta say Jubilee," his mouth full of deer meet.

He grew somewhat concerned when he heard the frail giggle a little.

"What's so funny," he asked with a tinge of anger. He didn't like frail giggling when he was talking -- actually he just didn't like frails.

"Ya remind me of Wolvie when ya eat like that," she sighed out.

Sweat dripped from his brow and his pupils became clear, "Never compare me to that runt frail! I ain't like him!" He suddenly lost his appetite as he threw it into the woods, "why dontcha go to the runt instead of givin' me hell."

She got up and looked him straight in the eye, "ya think I want ta be here -- I'd rather be with Wolvie any day then be with a psychotic furball."

In an instant his anger faded, "So ya sayin' ya tried to leave." If he got this correct...

"Ya furball, who'd want to be stuck with --"

"A psychotic furball, yah yah I get the point," he put up his hand to try to calm her down. "Sorry alright, ferget I mentioned it." Her blank expression was priceless.

"Look I need some sleep for the trip to L.A. -- d'ya mind," he automatically lay down on a tree trunk and let out a huge yawn. He closed his eyes with a big smile plastered on his face. More information he needed that got him one step closer to his freedom.


	9. Taken Away

Night became dawn as he awoke from his deep slumber. Groggily getting up, he decided what needed to be done first -- ashes being dowsed with his release.

"Do ya always have ta do that," an annoyed voice rang throughout the forest as smoke rose from the ashes.

"It's tradition," he replied back just as loud. He was in a good mood, and why shouldn't he? The information that the frail blurted out last night made life a little more interesting.

Even though her singing aggravated him, he took the one thing away from her that she depended on -- her "Wolvie."

Here suffering made him smile.

He finished his business and let out a relaxed sigh. He zipped up and turned around only to see the frails face right next to his.

"L.A. huh," she gave him a melancholic look, "dontcha need transportation -- walking with ya ain't that fun."

"What ya say Jubilee, I need a sweet ride ta get ta L.A." he falsely pondered the idea. Actually, he became tired of wandering on foot. A Harley would be nice since a certain couple of mutants will look for him.

Also he had a job to do. At least his clients weren't strict. All they told them was to get to L.A. as soon as possible, but not to rush. To make sure he'd be there he got paid a fourth of what is owed to him. Another fourth being paid when he got there and the last half when he got the job done.

Besides, along the way he'd find a way to get rid of the frail. Maybe those "psychic network crap" would help him out. Yet the great assassin calling a hotline...nah not for him! Yet one thing was for certain, staying here wouldn't get him nowhere.

He heard a sigh as he focused back to the frail, "So are we gonna get a ride or what?" she questioned him.

To hear the frail actually wanting to help him out sounded weird, they'd been enemies the majority of her life; yet the frail's help could become something he could get used to.

+ + +

He smelled the taint and desperation steadily pass by him through roads and beat up cars. He knew the way to the city and when he got there he started to hate it.

Passing right in front of him, a little girl starting to get yelled at by an older man. He shrugged that off. He looked over to the frail next to him and saw her cringe a little.

"So what's the plan," she looked around at the various automobiles around.

He looked around with the frail. There wasn't anything good to steal or grab around here. Then he heard it coming -- it sounded like a Harley, a very nice one.

He noticed the frail perk up a little from her thoughts, she must've heard it too, but how could she; she doesn't have his senses.

The hum of the motorcycle started to become closer.

"Nighty night furball," was the last thing he heard before the darkness overtook him once again.

* * *

*The frail better get me a good ride,* he thought to himself as he began to pay attention to another one of the frail's memories.

He looked over at the pen moving at a quick pace. The frail had worse handwriting than a doctor. He read the words in his head as they started to slowly appear:

"...he's dead. In the arms of the priss Monet. I cried but no one paid attention to that. I never get paid any attention these days..."

The pen stopped for a second, "heh I guess the runt ain't that much of a mentor ta her" he thought to himself as he quickly focused back at the pen that moved again:

"...Wolvie...Wolvie...I haven't seen him in a long time, I miss him. Yeah he had to go on another mission. He wouldn't want to hear me whine about Bastion, Ev, or anything of the like, too busy trying to get Red's tail..." suddenly the view came to the cowboy hat resting next to her, then came back to the pen and pad which started to hold drips of waters falling from her face:

"...He wouldn't care how my powers are progressing. They weren't kidding when they said I could be an alpha mutant, but eh who would care bout that right..." A knock on the door made the pen and pad become quickly tucked away under the hat.

"Jubes ya alright," a cheerful voice asked concerned.

"Sure hayseed I'm fine -- c'mon lets go ta the movies," a cheerful voice replied back as she got up and followed her to the light.

* * *

When he awoke he growled a little. He remembered he got at that rat town in the morning, but now it seemed like complete darkness. He awoke in a really comfortable leather seats. Now this was the life, the frail did well. He took a whiff of the air and something made his hair stand on the back of his neck.

"The runt," he yelled out load as he opened the door scanning the area for his rival only to find the frail leaning on the door.

"He ain't here furball so don't get ya panties all in a bunch," she didn't make eye contact as she made that statement. He didn't trust her. He did his own scouting of his own -- the scent of the runt was old, he heard nothing except crickets in the night sky, he saw that he was on a old road -- but no Wolverine.

"I told ya furball he ain't here," she got off from the car, "ya can thank me for the car later." 

That statement made him look at the car, a Dodge Viper, she definitely did good.

"Yeah the dealer liked the cash offering that I gave him."

That statement made him check through his pocket, and she was right. He had three hundred thousand dollars stashed in various hideouts in his trench coat -- those pockets were empty.

"Ya shoulda seen Wolvie, when he saw ya -- or rather me -- he gave chase in his Harley. He swore like a sailor from another planet," she explained it to him slowly. 

He didn't like it at all -- he would've taken care of the runt once and for all. No matter where the area was.

"He got a piece of the right windshield, but this car ain't meant to be held on ta. It was nice seein' him." she shrugged it off.

"Next time frail, I'll handle the runt," he abruptly demanded out from her, but she shrugged at this.

"Ya see that's where I got a problem furball, I ain't lettin' you get ta Wolvie," he didn't grasp the concept quite well as a slash on the side of his car can testify that.

"Oh furball that's yer money ya know," she teased him.

He snarled at her menacingly, she stole his thrill of killing and now he had no right to face the runt.

He loathed her.


	10. Trying to Detach

He drove -- that's all he could do until something could be done about this pest. His window broken and a slash on the side of his car made him a tad upset. Not watching a human beg and squirm for his life in the past couple days made him mad. Not being able to battle his rival, Wolverine, when he made his opponent weak made him enraged.

He growled internally as he looked over to the frail who made this nightmare all possible. She looked out the window watching the trees passing by. At least he leaved him at peace.

"How far is it till L.A furball?" He spoke too soon.

He snarled as a reply as he kept his eyes on the road. He put on the radio in order to drown out the voice of the frail. Static came from the speakers in the front, the back, and on the sides.

He payed three-hundred thousand dollars for this car, at least the speakers should work. He slammed his fist onto the dash and suddenly he heard the end of the song he knew too well.

"...She buying a stairway to heaven..."

An eerie smile crossed his face. He put his foot to the pedal and way past the speed limit. 

+ + +

When he took his foot off the accelerator, they were at a place he didn't like, a church. He wasn't a religious man, but he'd make a exception for today. Maybe he'd find an answer from one of the priests or those nuns.

...Or maybe it could trigger her moving on, just being here.

He controlled his excitement of getting rid of her and looked at the frail menacingly, "Look frail, I hate ya, ya hate me let's just get this over with," he yelled at her.

She gave him a glare that only a woman not afraid of him could, "I get the point furball -- lets get this over with." she agreed with him.

He got out of his car and slammed the door. He saw the frail just phase through the door. They got to the door quickly as he ripped the door off the hinges.

Candles lit the room and stained glass portraits. No one was around -- he felt it, he smelled it. 

"Alright frail do yer stuff, get yer ass out of here," He called out smugly. He got no response.

"Frail?" he questioned as he looked around. Nowhere to be seen. She was finally gone. He walked out of the church with the biggest smile he ever worn.

He got in his car and was about to start his car. He looked back at the church as crickets started to sound off in the distance. He looked to the passengers seat to see no one there.

He was free -- away from her snide remarks, annoying singing and rude looks. He started the Viper and took one last look at the church and took off, trying to get the thought of the frail out of his mind with his job.

He drove in the darkness and the silence for a while. Only the wind could be heard blowing in and out of the car. The horrible experience known from the past couple days were over, he had some celebrating to do.

He wasn't in the celebrating mood though. He had no cash on him and three thousand miles stood between him and California. He needed a scam. A pair of lights flashed in the distance. A sign for a bar, he turned into the parking lot.

Flashing multi-color lights, loud pop music and the stench of teenagers -- this wasn't his scene. He sat down and looked for potential prey. After a short search, he zoned in on one blonde twenty something that wore Versace. The glaze over her eyes, the mascara running down her face and the shots that glasses next to her meant only one thing -- a vunerable woman after a break-up.

He stealthily went over to her, making sure she was by herself, "You alright kid?"

She looked up at him, and started sobbing. He didn't need this right now; so, he got up to leave, but he felt something tug on his shirt. She apologized and she went with her story.

He sat there a good thirty minutes listening to the frail, or at least pretended to. From what he got through the whimpers and the shots she drunk down, she broke up with someone before she got here. Apparently, the guy was cheating on her. She came into this club, wanting to be alone, but when she saw him, she said he reminded her of her gay best friend that died recently. 

He didn't like to be compared to any frail, especially her best friend, yet he nodded and pretended to listen to every word. All he wanted was her money from that Gucci bag she carried.

"Ya know wat," she said in a drunken slur as she attempted to get up -- but she failed collapsing in his arms, "I'll get back at him." She thrust her lips to his. The didn't shock him he just kissed her back savagely.

"C'mon big boy, lets go somewhere private," her drunkenness made her dependent on him on movement. He could've just taken her purse right now, but that's not part of the plan he formulated earlier.

They walked out to his car and he put her in the back seat. He got in and tried to find the nearest motel he could. She didn't know the mistake she made trusting a psychotic killer like himself. He'd take her, gut her, then steal all the money she had in that expensive account she must have.

He planned all this like a chore. Before he'd have a lot more fun with it, he forced his evil grin. Everything was like before, as it should be.

"I love you, I hate you, I can't live without y--," the last things the blonde frail in the back seat slurred out before she threw up. He cringed a little; he'd have to pay to get that stain out. The money he'd steal from her would be enough to pay for it and gutting her would be her reward for the mess.

The evil smile came naturally this time as he found a sign blinking 'vacancy.' He pulled into the place.

"C'mon frail, I'll take ya mind away from that punk," He got out of the car and yanked the blonde woman out after him. She giggled in response.

He forced her to pay for the room.

"Make sure it's sound proof, frail," he winked at her. No one would hear her scream for mercy. When she got the money out, he smelled something other than money and perfume from the purse -- gunpowder.

He shrugged his suspicions off, if anything she'd be too drunk to shoot at him. He assisted her to the room, while her lips concentrated on his neck.

He gently put the key in, opened the door and turned on the lights. The bright red wallpaper blinded him a little as he ushered her in first.

The exact second he heard the door slam shut, he pushed her onto the heart shaped bed and pounced on her -- his lips savagely taking over hers.

"What is it with you and blondes furball." that voice, that annoyingly familiar voice!

He quickly turned around to see the frail behind him. He should've known it was too easy to get rid of her and this was the proof he needed. The yellow trench coat wearing specter stood in front of him. Her hands on her hips and that deadpan expression on her face.

"Ya ain't gonna ruin this for me frail," he yelled behind him as he looked back at the confused blonde girl beneath him.

"Who're ya talking to--," He quickly took his claw and split her shirt in half to shut her up. She didn't like that, "Aw, that cost me hundred twenty five b--," her sentence cut short by his lips.

"Give her air furball, I thought ya make your prey suffer before ya kill 'em -- not suffocate 'em," the ghostly frail sat at the edge of the bed.

He abruptly cut the kiss. His passion wasn't going to be cut by this ghostly frail.

"Yer just mad that Uncle Vic gutted ya before ya got that cherry popped," He glared at her and for the first time he saw rage in the ghastly frails eyes that rivaled the runts and his own.

"It ain't like your the greatest lover in the world furball, wait ya ain't a lover -- someone has to love ya back for that," the sharpness of her words made him get off his prey. He somewhat heard the blonde spoke, but he drowned out her voice. His entire focus was on the frail he couldn't get rid of.

He used women, plain and simple as that, but why did those words make his heart palpitate?

"Oh, and don't try ta say ya couldn't love someone, cause lookin' through yer memories -- I know what ya truly felt," she dismissed his earlier thought and braced himself on the memories that he ran from.

"Lets see," she counted one on her finger, "there was 'Mystique' " He growled at the thought of the child he had with her. It hurt him that she never told him about it until was too late.

"She didn't love ya furball, so one point ta me," The next thing he knew his fist aimed for her face, only to go through her.

"Oh," she feigned shock as she counted two on her finger, "there was Bird--"

"I loved her she knew that," he interrupted her with a desperate agonizing yell as he tried to slash her again but with the same result as the last attempt.

"That ain't the way I saw it furball, unless love is payin' someone to give ya a glow, then beatin' her, then rapin' her, then bein' betrayed by her and then leavin' her ta die alone," she shrugged absentmindedly.

This couldn't be true, he loved Birdy and Birdy loved him -- right. He became pale when he figured out who was next on the list and he didn't want to hear it. With a leap, he reached for the door.

"We ain't done yet furball, I got one more to talk about, someone more recent," he could tell she loved torturing him. The next word cut deeper than whatever the runt could do to him physically, "Bonnie."

He tried to hold back a tear, but he felt that trickle down his face , "I...loved...her," he faced her only to see her have an evil grin. His body shaking uncontrollably with rage.

"Then ya twisted her neck ta ease her sufferin' right -- how romantic," she hovered in right next to his ear.

"She used ya furball for one last joyride, she never loved ya," Her whisper felt like icy cold tears that wouldn't come out.

"Your lyin' frail," he tried to argue but instead barely breathed those words.

"Am I," she quickly rebutted, "You're talkin' to the dead one here, I know all," the smug look appeared on her face, he wanted to take it out. He leapt at her as he crash landed on something hard.

"So dog how does it feel ta actually deal with ya actions, oh and don't look now, I think your friend is quite scared," he looked where she pointed. A Desert Eagle quivered in blonde frail's hands.

"Get back you freak," the blonde frail tried to yell without fear, but his senses knew otherwise.

He growled as instinct took over and he grabbed the gun out of her hand and with his free hand knocked her unconscious.

He looked at the laughing apparition in front of him; then he looked down the barrel of the gun and pulled the trigger.


	11. Mutual Negotiation

* * *

Drowning, was this the feeling of death? He closed his eyes and felt a warmth surrounding him. Soon he'd be in Hell. He expected the warmth to become a raging inferno, but the ever-present warmth never left. He opened his eyes and saw life through the eyes of someone familiar.

Horrified, he tried to move but couldn't. Forced to watch the scene that followed, he relaxed as the images passed before his eyes.

A computer screen scrolled through information on him. "Dangerous", "Psychotic", "Extreme Caution" were the first words that popped out at him. Then the screen went over to see his stats. He agreed with what the screen announced about him except for one thing. They forgot to put, "Best Assassin there is."

"Hey darlin' what are ya doin," the runts voiced echoed out to the person. He quickly became enraged, but since he couldn't do anything -- he resigned himself to actually listen.

"Checkin' out Professors files on all the baddies, ya can't be too careful ya know," the gaze still on the computer screen.

"Who ya checkin' --" he heard an loud growl and a familiar snikt.

"Don't worry Wolive, ain't like the furball's here," the gaze still on the computer screen.

A silence went between them as the screen turned into various articles of the people he killed. Creed smiled to himself, enjoying the memories of terror and fear he put into those victims. Then a familiar face popped up on the screen with the headline:

"Mutant woman found dead in New York -- supposed assistant of a notorious assassin..."

Dread filled him, this is the reason he's here now, and he didn't want to deal with Birdy's death.

The screen turned off, a silent request answered and the attention came to the runt, "Ya know Wolvie," a brief silence came over her, then he saw a hand waved -- like it was to excuse her, "I'm hungry let's get somethin' ta eat." She got up and headed for the door.

"You're payin' darlin," He hear the runt joke as she laughed it off.

"Let me change first, kay," she announced as she walked up the stairs. When she got to her room, he heard he give a big sigh.

"I should tell him," she muttered. Confusion overtook him as the image faded away.

When the moemory faded in front of him, he knew he'd wake up to something -- someplace he didn't want to be.

* * *

The sun beamed down on him, his Viper was in front of him, and he was on the sidewalk. He turned to see where he was at, only to see the frail -- No! she wasn't frail -- the kid sat next to him. 

He couldn't express his anger and frustration, the kid foricbly took away everything from him. His luxary of his home in Canada, his rival that he wanted to kill, his bloodlust for humanity and now his way of living. He tried everything to get rid of her, but she was there -- always there. The human part of him broke when she said those things that night. The feral part of him broke when he felt the sting of them. No frail alive would say the things she said to him.

"Why didn't ya let me die, kid," he asked bluntly and bitterly as he looked at her for any expression from her.

Her somber face, breathed out a sigh, "When ya pulled the trigger 'Tooth, nothin' came out -- apparently you didn't read the other side that said 'replica.' "

He couldn't believe his dumb luck. He smelled the gunpowder, felt the weight, he swore it was real -- he must be losing it. Something didn't click right, did she call him 'Tooth.'

"Ya still didn't answer my question, kid" He interjected, he needed to know the answer even though he knew what was coming. She would say that she'd haunt him forever cause he killed her. He braced himself for an eternity of agonizing pain.

"I needed a drag," she pointed out to the opened pack of Marlboro's next to him, "I'd do anything for a drag," the teasing smile made him even more enraged.

"Look kid --" He growled at her.

"Look yerself, ya want a serious answer, you'll get one" she stood up and glared down at him, "Ya said, 'Look frail, I hate ya, ya hate me let's get this over with,' but ya got that wrong 'Tooth, I don't hate ya enough ta kill ya that way -- I ain't no killer like yerself," she gave an exasperated sigh as she sat down next to him.

"And besides, I owed ya one, lets just live it at that," she gave out a serious answer -- a rarity since this began.

So she owed him one -- for what? Before he could ask her why, he saw her get up, besides its kind of fun bein' your conscious ," she announced with that familiar smile. He didn't like the way she said that -- like she knew her place this whole time.

"I didn't ask for one and don't ya mean conscience," He grumbled back not making eye contact. He didn't want to feel the guilt after the pleasure left, he didn't want to be reminded of how he couldn't love, he didn't want to be more human than animal. At least when he was more feral, life was simple.

"First of all ya tried seein' if I was somethin' wrong with yer head -- found out it ain't that," she counted that point on her index finger, "then ya try ta just drop me off at church -- like that's all it took -- now ya know that ain't goin' ta work," she counted that with her middle finger, "Yer stuck with me 'Tooth and there ain't nothin' ya can do bout it," she gave a sign of glee to his desperation. A part of him wanted to yell back that it wasn't over, but he tried the thing he knew and it wasn't working; so he had to believe what the specter said was true -- for now. 

"So ya got one 'Tooth, I'm stuck here, I might as well be it and nah yer 'concious'." She argued back to him in an innocent tone -- another rarity. He heard her sigh again.

"I got a deal for ya 'Tooth," when he heard this his ears perked a little, but he still didn't look at her, "I won't use yer memories against ya if ya don't have ta make me -- meanin' no killin or rapin'," She offered the deal on the table. He'd take the deal in an instant because he'd be plotting a way to escape the deal, but this ones permanent for all he knew.

"Why kid, ya can't make me into that runt," he replied back, he knew what she tried to do.

"Ain't comparin' ya to Wolvie," her purpose finally became revealed -- why did she care?

He didn't need to think of the runt at a moment like this. He got some leeway and he needed to take it "If I can still bust heads and take a lady if she wants it then we got a deal," He couldn't believe he was making a deal with his 'conscious.'

"Sure," she said without a second thought, she got up and smiled at him, "we still goin to L.A or what?"

"Give me a second kid," he picked up the Marlboro's next to him, took a cigarette and started to smoke it, "I need a drag."


	12. Dashboard Confessionals

He took one last puff as he flicked the cigarette as far as he could, the last pieces of ash charing his skin. He shoved his hands in his pocket as he tries to find his keys. He soon recognizes this isn't his trench coat. He looked at the fabric up close -- a black trench coat.

"The color fits ya 'Tooth" she teased him, he growled at her in response.

He took out his keys. When he got close to his car, the smell of vomit dissapeared with something different. He looked through the back seat window. Two cartons of Marlboros, a carton of Sugar Bombs, a box of Cigars, the Desert Eagle replica and his old trench oat laid across the back seat.

"Where'd ya get the money ta pay for this kid," his attention never leaving the backseat. He took another whiff.

"Well," she suddenly appeared in the backseat of the car, "when the girl ya took home woke up, she panicked," she shrugged her shoulders like she didn't know why, "she threw at least three thousand dollars at me, screamin' not to hurt her as she ran out the door -- I was gonna say somethin' but who am I not ta spend money given ta me." she gave him a beaming smile.

He heard enough as he shook his head. He got in the car and put the keys in the ignition. Looking behind him he noticed that she was still in the back.

"I'm not a taxi kid," he warned her. He played 'cabbie' once to get some victims, but no one was here to be one. He saw her shrug as she appeared right next to him.

He started the car and left where they were. Hoping that along the way he'd find some way to get rid of this specter.

+ + +

A couple hours on the road made him think of various stuff. Especially when he passed sign stating the Canadian border was two thousand miles away. He groaned inwardly as he thought of how it was not like him to miscalculate. He snorted, hell, his actions for the past few days wasn't like him.

He looked over at the passenger side, she had stayed that way for the past couple of hours. When they left, her gaze looked out the window.

If someone told him a ghost of the runt's ally would come to stop him from killing, maiming, torturing and all the stuff that made him who he was -- he slapped him around for living.

If someone told him he would be making a deal with his 'conscious' to gain some freedom -- he gut him after the last sentence.

Yet here they were, and he didn't know a way to get rid of her.

He looked at the back seat to see the Desert Eagle replica. He scowled at what lead to that incident with that gun. When instinct took over and it told him to kill himself, he didn't give it a second thought. He didn't like having the things he got used to over the decades just change on him. 

He'd rather be dead than never to kill again. 

That statement didn't sit well with him -- actually it bothered him. 

He never felt guilty before on any decisions on his life. He was trained not to his whole entire life. A killer, that's what he was and he was damn good at it.

He looked over the kid again and shook the stupid thoughts out of his head and turned on the radio. The melodic guitar intro leads to the old grizzled voice of Johnny Cash.

"Leave it," they both said at the same time and they looked each other. 

"No surprise ya like Cash 'Tooth," She stated as she looked at him as she rolled her eyes.

"Ain't no one like the man in black kid, surprised you like him," he turned the radio up.

"Just cause he did tha cover fer Nine Inch Nails," she looked back out the window and he focused on the road.

_"I hurt myself today_

To see if I still feel

I focus on the pain 

The only thing that's real

The needle tears a hole 

The old familiar sting 

Try to kill it all away 

But I remember everything..."

He sighed somberly as he kept driving into the darkness without his lights on.

+ + +

Five straight hours of Johnny Cash, the songs eased his mind. Since the man in black died, they'd been playing his songs non-stop. He didn't mind and he noticed that his passenger didn't mind either.

A grumble erupted from he pit of his stomach. He didn't eat today, only smoked a couple of cigarettes.

"There's sugar bombs in the back ya know," her suggestion made him growl. He'd never eat those sugar packed items -- ever.

He noticed his surroundings, he chose to drive close to the woods. He slowed down and parked on the side of the road.

"Huntin'," A voice piped up next to him as he got out of the car.

"Yeah kid, ya wanna watch a bunny die," he popped out his claws as he sniffed the air. There were plenty of them here, he'd have no problem killing one.

"I'm good thanks," she put up her hand, "d'ya mind leavin' the radio on." 

He shrugged as Johnny Cash blared from his Viper as he went to hunt.

+ + +

He didn't have to walk fifteen minutes, he'd found a rabbit run past him. All he did was leapt at the blur and he held an instant meal in his hand.

He felt the furry being trying to kick out. He just gripped it well -- he'd done this before and reactions of bunnies are simple.

He let the bunny scream a little as he still had a firm grip on it. He felt the bunny's heart race, unable to escape. His preys eyes started to glaze over as he felt the bunny give one last kick. His preys heart stopped -- dinner was served.

+ + +

He patted his stomach as he threw the bone in his hand to the pile. The meat was tough, but fulfilling. He started to walk to the car. The closer he got, Cash's songs became louder.

The kid was already out, leaning on the side of the car.

"Ya got some of your dinner on the side of your face," she touched her own face to point it out. He ignored her as he went to the backseat to pick out what he wanted.

He took a cigarette out the pack and lit it.

"Do ya mind if I hit that," she asked him and floated near him.

"I thought ya ain't gonna control me," he pointed out to her. Why should he give up his body just so the kid can smoke.

"Err wrong answer 'Tooth," she floated right in front of him and made sure she made eye contact, "Ain't gonna use yer memories 'gainst ya and c'mon 'Tooth would ya rather have me singin'," she opened her mouth and took in a deep breath. He rolled his eyes, he knew that she could just take over his body anytime. Why was she being polite?

He resigned himself, "Sure kid why not,"

He got tired of the darkness that took over him.

* * *

He heard laughing, lots of it. His vision was confined down to black and white drawn figures. The words weren't the first thing he focused on.

A bathtub full of body parts, a sink full of sharp metal objects and a wimpy guy covered in blood, cleaning his saw.

This is what she was laughing at?

* * *

He came back to find a newly lit cigarette in his hand and smelled that two have been smoked.

"Kid, I thought ya wanted a little bit," He asked her as she shrugged as she phased through the door and sat at the passenger seat.

"Two is a little," she replied innocently.

He threw the newly lit cigarette out, something bothered him about what he saw in the kid's mind. He went inside the car and turned off the radio.

"I was listenin'," she was serious bout this.

"I just went into that mind of yours, seems like killin' is funny ta you," he confronted her with his vision.

She gave him a confused look, "What ya see, a guy in black and white." she questioned him.

"Yeah," He replied to confirm it, and he didn't expect her reaction.

She laughed, not sarcastically laughing he heard throughout this whole ordeal or nervous laughter that he usual instilled into his prey before he killed it,but genuine funny laughter.

"Boy I miss that comic," she wheezed out trying to control her laughter. The only thing he could do is frown.

She noticed this as she stopped laughing abruptly and shrugged, "Killing is wrong, everyone needs ta gain redemption, follow the 'dream' yadda yadda yadda but it's a comic, not real life," she pointed the last point out.

He just sighed as he went to start the car, but he'd have to teach a kid a lesson.

"In my reality, kid, I live ta see the fear in my preys eyes and hear him scream for mercy as I rip his heart out his chest. The comic yer laughin' at is basically the same thing I do for a livin'," He saw her blink a little, "aren't ya a hypocrite ta not let me kill, but enjoy it when someone else does it."

He actually saw her gaze blankly at him, like she didn't expect him to say those words. That gaze didn't last long though as she came back to her peppy self.

"You're right 'Tooth, I am a hypocrite," her voice sullen as could be, but then she smiled at him, "but we made a deal and I keep ta it -- too bad," she stuck out her tongue at him as she went back to look out the window.

He started the car, he knew she was putting up a front. The last couple of days he started to get the kid. They had crappy childhoods, liked smoking, liked Johnny Cash and now he found out that she thought killing was funny -- but only in the comic books.

He pushed those thoughts away as the facts were still there. He was still unable to kill anything human and it irked him a little. He needed to get rid of her and maybe along the way he'd find someone to help him...

When did not being able to kill a frail 'irk' him? He lived and thrived on it -- he should be in a state of insanity for not killing a frail for so long.

"Are we goin' or what 'Tooth, you and thinkin' don't go together," she poked fun at him.

He pushed the gas pedal as they went forward into the night. Who would've thought the kid and him had some things in common...

Wait...

|+++++++++++++++++++++|

Note of reference: The comic scene I'm referring to is from, Johnny: The Homicidal Maniac by Jhonen Vasquez. He's also the creator of the show, Invader Zim. 


	13. Distortion to Actualization

Compete silence between them when the horizon turned orange. The ominous silent between them made him a little uncomfortable. He thought she'd sing crappy eighties songs to annoy him, or to turn on the radio to listen something other than the silence, but she sat there -- looking out the window.

He shook his head and stopped wondering about her as he saw the sign that made his day. He drove all night to get to this point, a familiar sign that'd lead him to one of his homes.

He pulled to the side covered in dirt and shrubs, and got a pack of cigarettes out the back seat. He got out of the car and looked behind him to see the spirit phase through the back seat and float near him.

"Goin' ta get somethin' in the cabin," the spirit asked him, not really surprised. How'd she know one of his cabins was up ahead? Didn't matter, he'd get his stuff and that meant more access to people that dealt with situations like this. "Yup," he lit his cigarette and peaked at the spirit out of the corner of his eye, "Ya wanna smoke before I actually get goin'," he didn't have to ask a second time before the familiar darkness consumed him.

* * *

*What now this time,* he thought to himself as he saw her reflection in the mirror, she was much younger in this one -- she looked like she graduated high school. She wore only a loose shirt and -- if he looked carefully - a bikini top beneath it.

This piqued his interest, finally something worth watching. He saw her giggle as she tried to make her cleavage more noticeable.

"I hope Wolvie notices me," she gave a wink and blew a kiss to the reflection.

* * * 

He came back to reality in a bad mood. He felt the cigarette still in his hands as he smoked the rest of the contents and quickened his pace away from her.

"Wait up 'Tooth, what'd see this time," by her tone she knew what happened.

"What d'ya see in the runt, kid," he asked bluntly. He didn't want to sound angry, he just wanted to know why. Since the runts been with the X-men he had all these women flaunt to him: Kitty, Yukio, Mariko, Silver Fox, Viper, Amiko, Jean...The list can go on and on.

The kid was just one of those woman on the list that got the runts affection. Not that he mind much, they made excellent targets to get back at the runt. Thinking about it though that's what got him to the situation at hand on the first place.

He turned around when his question wasn't answered and saw the sullen form of the ghost.

"I saved the 'runt' when he was in a bind, from then on we'd been close," he knew she was giving him the watered down truth.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah savin' someone doesn't mean ya like 'em, kid," he replied back, "usually he'd want somethin' from ya and I'm guessin' he wanted somethin' from ya." He knew at anytime that if he'd push the wrong buttons -- he'd be in a world of unpleasantness, but he'd risk it.

"Maybe 'Tooth maybe," he heard her sigh out, "but he taught me more than I could give back, he saved me more than I can save him, he's been more of a friend to me than anyone I ever knew."

He started to get aggravated, the runt had no flaws in her eyes, but he knew the runt for what he really was, "It looked like he didn't teach ya ta defend yerself better, or else ya wouldn't be dead, now what sorta 'friend' is that." He spat out through grit teeth.

He knew he pushed it, but he didn't care.

He saw her shrug and float close to him, then right past him, "He didn't save me, big whoop 'Tooth, he still be the best bud that a girl can ever have."

He slouched as he snarled. He ran past the apparition towards his cabin. Blinded by rage, the first thing he saw he tore it a new hole. He slashed downward as the tree in front of him easily got off it's hinges and crashed towards the earth.

"Geeze 'Tooth, what did that tree do ta ya, give ya a splinter," he huffed at her comment and walked into the shadows of the forest.

+ + +

An hour passed since the incident with the tree. He walked alone in the woods. He looked behind him a couple of times, the kid was still behind him -- just not as close as usual.

He despised the runt more than he ever had before. Every couple of minutes, he snarled in contempt as thoughts of the runt came in his mind.

He didn't deserve those women, he didn't deserve their pity, respect or love. The last word in his mind made him swipe at a young tree. He kept walking as he heard the tree squeak in agony then finally falling.

He was just glad that his cabin was a little ways off. That's when he smelled it, burning wood. He sprinted full speed towards the scent.

He knew what happened before he got out of the brush. The black sky gazed down in anger at the towering inferno. He sniffed the air, nothing smelled familiar.

He saw the kid come out of the bush a little shocked, "Guess it's back to the drawin--" her sentence cut short by a gasp and her eyes big and round.

He quickly turned in the direction of her gaze. Out of the fire stood a figure with three claws on each hand extended out. The figure started to walk towards him, the shadows of the fire gave covered his face.

Finally this is what he wanted, something he liked to do -- and by the deal he made with the kid -- all legal too, "C'mon runt, I ain't got all day," he popped out his claws, which were twitching in anticipation.

The form sauntered closer to him, as the runts form became clearer. The runt's face made Creed cool demeanor falter a little.

The runt's eyes were filled with rage and hate. The runt's mouth foamed and drooled. Creed then heard the most feral yowl he ever heard.

Sabretooth took a sniff in the air and smelled the blood of humans and animals around Wolverine. He knew that Wolverine lost it -- the humanity that kept him from being feral.


	14. Unsatiated

He ripped off his trench coat as he got ready. He watched every step his opponent made. Wolverine jumped at him with a battle cry; yet, Sabretooth was prepared for the lunge.

He sidestepped the move with ease, making note on how Wolverine landed -- on all fours. In a flash, he saw claws trying to get to his face. He ducked out of that, the claws clipping a little of his already short hair.

The adrenaline pumped through him knowing how close a call that was. The familiar glow coursed through his mind and body -- now it was his turn.

He tried to slash at his opponent's face but he only grabbed air. He felt searing heat go pass over his stomach. He clutched it for a second as he felt it heal.

"That's the best ya got boy," he taunted the other without fear. He saw rage in the other flare up, the feral attacked him again.

This wasn't the Wolverine he faced before countless times before. This Wolverine started to get sloppy, and he would point out his rivals mistakes mistakes.

He grabbed the clecnched fists that were aimed for his face, Wolverine's claws a couple of inches near his face, and using momentum threw his opponent into a tree. He loved the anguish on his face. The impact would've killed a regular man, instead it only slowed his opponent down.

"Wolvie...what...happened," he heard a distant whisper flow out into the wind. He looked back to see the kid still in a state of shock.

He felt metal pierce through his chest. He howled in pain as he grasped his chest. His healing factor would be working hard today. He saw the other trying to get another slash in, but he kicked his rival off him.

How could he be so careless as to not pay attention to the other feral for a second? He charged at the somewhat dazed figured and speared him to another tree.

He heard the wind getting knocked out his opponent as he let him loose a little so he could get a couple of punches in. Before, it'd hurt to punch a guy with skeletal structure made purely out of adamantium, but now that they were on the same playing field -- it just stung a little.

He kept punching him, he didn't want to kill him just yet; rather, he'd like to see him suffer. The pain and suffering that he felt he put upon his rival. He put all his strength into a punch to the gut. The force forced Wolverine through the tree he was right behind, and then the one behind that one and finally landing on and making a huge dent in stone.

He saw his rival cough up blood, and eyes started to close slowly. He won the fight, he knocked out his rival. He'd have to finish the job. He walked toward his fallen opponent, ready to find out the color of the others guts.

The kid formed in front of him, hands outstretched trying to stop him. He growled at her.

"Out of the way kid," he just went through her. He walked closer to his prey.

"Were you pleased?" she shouted at him, he just kept walking, "Did you enjoy this fight, I don't see that typical evil grin of yours."

She was right, he wasn't grinning. He forced it when he turned to face her, "Ya know kid, it doesn't matter -- I've been waitin' for this moment forever." He got to his opponent as he grabbed him by the throat ready to strike.

She once again popped up in front of him, "Ya didn't beat him," her simple tone stopped him, "Ya just beat an animal -- that wasn't his best," he noticed that she said 'animal' without flinching and emotion.

He didn't care though, he started thrust his claw into his opponent abdomen, drawing blood -- all he had to do was slice up towards the chest cavity and...

This would be the point where she would save her precious "Wolvie" and control him; however, out of the corner of his eye he saw her not budging -- staring at him like she knew she'd win,"You can't fool me 'Tooth, you feel empty inside -- you wanted more."

He growled as he took his claws out. He looked around for what he could do for this pitiful excuse as an opponent. With Wolverine in hand he dragged him to a cliff. He looked down -- pretty deep, but Wolverine would survive. He put him through worse.

He held him at the edge, "I know ya can hear me runt, ya ain't one hundred percent feral yet," his clenched fist around his opponent's neck, feeling the growl rise up in his rival's throat, " ya lucky the kid was right, but only this once I'll let ya live. Fight me when ya worthy -- then I'll make yer death glorious -- till then have a nice trip," He let go and watched the body fall till the runt's body became assimilated into forest below.

He sneered as he started to walk away, he saw the kid give out a sigh and lean up against a tree looking up at the sky.

Creed automatically went up to her, "Ya coulda controlled me kid, why didn't ya?" he looked down and questioned her.

She looked straight at him that made him back up a little. The look of anger he was used to, but simple confidence wasn't,"I ain't like ya 'Tooth, I keep ta my deals," her look still there, " I know ya," she pointed to her head, her conviction not faultering.

Creed didn't like what she was alluding to...


	15. Shut Up!

He brooded as he glared at the brat, "Ya don't know me, kid," he retorted as he walked towards her.

He saw her shrug a little, "Maybe I don't 'Tooth, but I know more bout you than most others."

"What happend ta not usin' my memories 'gainst me, kid?" he spat out, this started to irritate him -- all the more reason to try to get rid of her. Walking over to the what used to be a house of his, she appeared in front of him. "C'mon 'Tooh, ya know this ain't goin' against the deal -- and ain't ya curious what I see in that noggin o' yers?" her current attitude just didn't make sense in his mind. First she had that confused look when she first saw the runt and now she's all cocky and playful -- like she's trying to hide her true emotions.

Of course, he didn't have trouble deciphering them before. His sense of smell could track any emotion, but he couldn't smell a ghost now -- could he. For now he'd go along with this game until he could pull what he needed from her.

"What makes ya say that, cause ya can read my mind?" He pointed to his own mind as he walked past her, "listen kid many have tried but --"

"Failed," she interrupted him, he glared at her -- she smiled in response, "Even if I didn't read ya mind, I knew why you wouldn't kill Wolvie."

Back up, the kid stated that she figured him -- he snorted, "Didn't ya just see me throw him off that cliff -- not even he'd survive that with the wounds on him," he bluffed. He just really wanted to shut up the kid.

"Tsk, Tsk 'Tooth, ya know as well as I do that he'd survive the fall," she called his bluff as he tried to focus her voice out of his head, "Hell, he'd been through worse," she paused for a minute, "No, I think ya want him alive." she responded with newfound assurance.

This made Creed stop dead in his tracks, "Of course I do, I want him to --"

"Suffer, hurt, maimed, destroyed, yadda, yadda, yadda," she interrupted him again, "does one of those words fit."

He growled at her, he didn't need this now. He came close to the remains of the cabin. She became silent for a while and he loved every minute of that silence -- until he saw her open her mouth.

"Ya know what I think," She started to say. "Ways ta be thankin' me for not killin' yer precious 'Wolvie' -- leavin' me the hell alone should be on top of that list kid," now it was his turn to interrupt her; he got a glare as his reward.

"You'll beat him to an inch of his life, but ya can't kill him," this sounded like a challenge to him.

"I can kill the runt kid, I'll go down there and rip his face off right now," his bravado rising, he could kill the runt -- easily. 

"What'd ya goin' ta do after ya kill him then?" she question him. He never actually thought of the 'after'. All these decades he'd been consumed with the thought of trying to kill him.

"Sure ya could kill people for fun afterwards, but you'll feel empty, like when ya beat Wolvie right now," she continued he heard her confidence build, "Yer feud has been keepin' ya alive for decades -- you'd need him to be alive to keep ya alive."

The realization hit him like fireworks exploding in his head. He had countless battles with the runt and whenever he had 'free time,' his thoughts were always on how to get back at his rival.

"Confess 'Tooth, ya like the hunt more than the kill with Wolvie," He just wanted to take that smug look away from her.

"If I confess that," he plotted the perfect plan to shut her up as an evil grin gleamed across his face, "then ya gotta admit ya love the runt," he pointed it out to her. He knew she loved the runt. The times she followed him around when she was thirteen. The chance looks she gave the oblivious runt.

His completed his objective, the smug look on her face switched to one of silent contemplation, "I don't love Wolvie, 'Tooth," she gave a quick answer and turned her head away from him.

"Yer lyin' kid," he pressed it on. He didn't need his sense of smell to notice that; besides, she got him on the 'not killing runt' issue, he'd get her on the 'she loves Wolvie' issue.

He saw her shake her head like a kid -- unbefitting for someone with her adult figure, "I had a crush on him when I was younger, but I grew out of it," she finally splurted out.

"I doesn't seem like it kid, when ya called out his name, the fear on your face when I was about to kill him -- just say those three words and we're even," he didn't like being showed up by the kid. She had limited power over him now, but she loosened up a bit -- her mistake.

Her face twisted in agony, "I couldn't love him -- not the way he wanted it from me," she replied quickly as though the words were like a shot -- something quick and painless.

"Whadya mean 'what he wanted from ya kid', he wanted yer poontang and yer afraid of his little twig of his ta scar ya," he pounced on the opportunity to harm her. He expected a witty retort; yet, she stayed silent. Her eyes focused on the golden, crisp maple leaves and ash of his house strewn all over the ground. 

"You know nothin' bout me 'Tooth, nothin'!" she yelled at him, floating through him and towards the cabin. He finally got to the core of her true emotions. He must remember what path he took to get there because this is what he wanted.

"I can say the same!" he half-heartedly yelled back. He unknowingly hit the spot that she knowingly hit on him a while back. He should be thoroughly enjoying her suffering; yet, something was off with this small victory.

"There might be some stuff left in your cabin, I'll check it out," she told him without turning her head back, interrupting his thoughts. If it wasn't for his good hearing, he would've missed that. He saw her float dejectedly towards the ash.

"Yeah," he sedately agreed as he followed her. They'd better get going soon. After a fall like that, the runt would be come back to the same spot within an hour.


	16. Foolish Games

She did go over to what remained but she just stood there looking at the ashes of what he once had; yet, she just stood there -- spacing out.

"Kid, I thought yer goin' ta check if anything's here," he snarled at her and he got no response, "Never trust a kid ta do anythin'," he grumbled as he had to quickly go through the wreck.

His fake I.D, emergency cash, files on enemies, and his armored car -- all of it were consumed in the flames.

She didn't say anything and left the scene. With a handful of dirt, dried up leaves in his hand, he didn't have time to respond as she went to look over the cliff side where he threw his rival

He sighed as he went back to where his trench coat was. The trip to here was a bust. He fished for a cigarette and looked over to where the specter was now -- same place, same look.

He lit up and contemplated about the power the runt had over her -- even in her afterlife.

From this far away, he saw the yearning in her eyes. How could she still care for the runt? The runt didn't protect her when she died. From what he got from her memories, the runt wasn't there most of the time. He grimaced at what he heard earlier, the runt wanted something from her that she couldn't give.

He was hated for fewer reasons than that, and he saw the girl wanting the runt.

"We're leavin' kid," he spat the cigarette out of his mouth. The girl reluctantly turned away from the view and led the way to the Viper as Creed followed silently behind her.

+ + +

Two hours of complete silence, she didn't even look back at him the entire time. She'd just kept up in front of him. She didn't hear him light a couple more cigarettes. When he knew that she wasn't paying attention, he just threw out the newly lit cigarette; fifteen minutes later, he'd try again, but got the same result.

When they did reach the car, he pulled out the last cigarette from the pack and looked up at her. Her somber form finally turned around to see him.

He'd find out the truth indirectly, she'd want a drag and there'd be a good chance the memories of her and the runt would come up.

He puffed a little bit more and saw she wasn't taking the bait, "Ya need a drag kid," he asked her. She didn't answer, her eyes averted his gaze -- he took the cigarette out of his mouth and flicked it away.

"If I wasn't there would'ya kill him?" her voice cracked with sorrow.

"Hey I thought ya know me kid," he tried to get a rise out of her, but she still couldn't meet his gaze.

"Yes or no," her directness made him jump a little. He'd gotten used to her being more of a spitfire than this.

"Yes," he let instinct take over and answer for him. He knew that he wouldn't let a perfectly good runt live if his feral side took over. Instead, she stopped him and made him think -- he didn't like doing that.

"Maybe it'd be better off if ya killed him," the shock he felt rivaled being hit with an actual thunderbolt -- and he literally knew how that actually felt.

"The look in Wolvie's eyes," he saw here reminisce, "He's become more feral than I've ever seen." She sat down next to the car, hugging her knees, "I don't know if he'll ever get out of it."

He almost put another slash on his car when she showed her adoration for her 'Wolvie.' She'd cared for him so much that she'd rather see him dead than being feral forever. This wasn't her -- he gave a toothy grin.

"Don't think ya can get one over on me kid, I know where your gettin' at," he gave an enthused argument -- and for the first time in a couple of hours, she actually had another emotion other than sadness.

"What are ya talkin' bout 'Tooth," She actually met his gaze this time.

"You givin' up on the runt, that ain't you kid -- No I think ya givin' me that reverse psycho crap so I'll end up wanting to kill him," he saw her confused face, which she was probably faking, "If I kill him, you and him will live happily ever after in the afterlife." He shook his finger at her, "or he'll be hauntin' me too -- like how you are."

The myriad of emotions on her face clued him on to her lying, "Nice try kid, but I ain't fallin' for it," he continued as he went to the driver seat of the car.

"Ya right 'Tooth, ya got me -- heh, me givin' up on Wolvie -- what a crock of --," Her spitfire came back two fold.

"Watch your mouth kid," he stopped her as he entered the driver seat, seeing her sit next to him on the passenger seat, "you won't get your precious 'Wolvie' back anytime soon, kid -- you're mine and I'll only deal with ya," he heard what he said in his head, "until I can find a way ta get rid of you," he spoke out quickly.

He swore he heard her gasp, but when he looked over to her to check. A death glare met his eyes, "Ya how ya goin' get away from 'Wolvie', he'd track ya down."

He started the car and floored it out of the area, "Kid, I made it my business ta be hidden -- he won't find us anytime soon." 

Pure glee coursed his body. He got her -- he got her good.


	17. That Familiar Routine

He hit the steering wheel to coincide the beat of the song.

"Ooh the ring of fire," he belted out. His good mood exuded out as he looked over to see that the kid didn't feel the same.

They'd been driving for a while, actually non-stop since the little incident back at the cabin. Night came and went and he didn't feel tired. The adrenaline rush with Logan was all he needed to stay awake.

He suddenly saw trucks parked along the lane, he'd been here before. This place served the best sirloin beef at seven o'clock in the morning. He looked at the clock in the car -- his luck -- it's seven o'clock.

He parked, looked over his shoulder and saw the girl not even flinch a little. She just looked out the window -- like she did for the last day or so. He didn't care, wasn't like she was going anywhere anyway.

Sirloin beef -- medium rare, that's what he ordered when he got inside. He looked over as the kid opted to stay in the car. He "forgot" to turn off the radio. They'd been listening to Johnny Cash that whole entire day and night. That didn't bother him, but surely it'd annoy her now.

When his meal came he focused on it like it was the only thing there. He ocasionally stared out the window to look what the kid was doing -- the same damn thing. She must be brooding on what he did earlier. 

He found joy in catching the kids attempt to try to get the better of him. She'd never get the better of him. 

Now she sat there, trying not to pay attention to him, but he knew better. The way she acted, her clocks in her head were probably geared on the next move. He'd be ready though.

When he finished the meal, he just looked at the waitress and she knew that this meal would be a part of his tab. Last time he got here, he'd took out some punks that were annoying him; who'd knew they annoyed this store too. He walked in, got into the car, "that was some good eatin'," he announced, but he got no response. Growling a little, he turned on the ignition and went on his way.

After a few minutes he saw a sign ahead, the border between Canada and the States were just miles away. He remembered the ten dollars needed to exit and a good cover story. 'Visiting the relatives' always worked.

As he approached the toll booth, he slowed down the car and turned down the radio as he approached to see scrawny man looking over a list.

"Ten dollars sir," the annoying man commanded him. He suppressed a growl as he gave the ten.

"The reason for departure," the man said in the same monotone voice.

"Need ta visit some relatives," Creed answered quickly. He'd rather get this over with soon.

"Alright --" he was about to floor it out of there. When the tollbooth guy's heard something dispatch on his transmitter. Creed got antsy at what he heard on the dispatch radio: 6'6 man, authorities want, blonde, no pupils. This would be a messy way to leave Canada.

"Hey 'Tooth I'll deal with it," he heard a voice offer help.

"I don't need your help kid, gettin' out of this is goin' ta be a cakewalk," his bravado showing her. 

"Sir I have to detain you for a minute, can you come this way," the tollbooth guy waved him over to the spot where the authorities were. He could easily rip out all of their throats and be off -- but he had to play by their rules. He looked over to see the kid giving the look of apathy -- he had to sneer to himself a little.

He drove the car to the spot and got out. A man stood waiting for him as he got out of the car ready to get this over with.

"There a problem," the same annoying man bluntly asked as the guy perked an eyebrow at him.

"Just have to ask you a few questions before you leave sir," the guy cleared his throat as he went through the list, "what are your reasons for leaving sir?" He smelled the fear rising from the guy.

"Visiting some relative," the shortest politest answer always worked.

"Okay," the guy checked off, "umm did you bring any foreign fruits or vegetables."

He growled at the guy, his intimidation tactic began to work, "Nah I didn't, you can check yerself," he gave him a toothy grin showing the guy his canines.

The guy hurriedly checked the car. Creed became a little antsy when they guy stopped at one spot, "Sir, why is that trench coat soaked in blood."

He didn't account for that. He thought the guy would give a casual glance over, "Went huntin'," he blurted out. The look the guy gave him meant one thing -- wrong answer.

"Sir you know most of Canada's wilderness is protected habitat --" Creed zoned out on the incessant babbling of the guy. All he had on his mind was how to kill this guy and get away as soon as possible.

"Look I can get ya out no problem," the kids voice popped up. Her face ready for action. 

He was put into a tough dilemma. There was every reason to not trust the kid right now. She probably gets him arrested or some crazy thing she'd do just to get back at him.

Yet, she wasn't in the position to bluff. He caught her before and it wouldn't be too bad if he woke up arrested -- it wasn't the first time he'd escaped from authorities.

He nodded to her as the familiar blackness came over him.

* * *

She looked the same as she did in her ghost form. Her hair passed her shoulders as she filled out a whole lot more as his auditory functions picked up Johnny Cash blared from the radio. From the looks of it, she was on top her bed, writing something down.

"Turn that crap off," a familiar voice rang out -- the runt. Of course she didn't comply.

A few minutes later he heard footsteps come down and a door forced open.

"What's yer problem Wolvie, it's the man in black," she got to the point. Logan turned the volume down.

"Ain't a girl yer age supposed to be listenin' to that pop crap," the runt pointed out as the kid gave a sour look.

"Just because I'm twenty-one ain't mean nothin' Wolvie," she responded defiantly, but with a smile, "besides I gotta respect a guy that covered my MILF's favorite song."

"MILF?" the runt questioned as Sabretooth wanted to know as well.

"Man I'd like to F--," she stated as the runt covered her mouth.

"Didn't need to know that darlin'," the runt took his hand away from her mouth as he slowly sat on her bed. The runt sighed as the kid went over and sat next to him -- rubbing his back. Sabretooth growled to himself as he was forced to see this filth.

"Creed used ta like this garbage," the runt replied as though he knew what she was going to ask. How did Logan know that. Then he saw her roll her eyes.

"Just 'cause ole furball likes it ain't mean I'm going to be like him Wolvie," when an awkward silence filled the room, she sighed as she went up and hugged him. Internally, Creed growled again.

"Alright, I won't listen ta him." she acknowledged sighing as she held the runt a little too long. 

"Good darlin'," Wolverine broke the embrace and left the room. She made sure he was gone and she went to get her headphones.

Creed couldn't help but smile as he heard the chorus: "The ring of fire"

* * *

He awoke back to reality. A sign in front of said 'Welcome to America.' So she didn't betray him.

He went in the car and saw something on the inside of the windshield -- a business card. He picked up the card and looked perplexed at it:

"John 555-1234, call me"

Seeing a heart after the 'call me' made him almost hurl.

"Cake walk huh," he heard her comment indignantly. He ripped up the card quickly and started his way into America.

She got him...this time...


	18. Affects Drowsiness

He didn't want to divulge too much on how she got past the border guards. All he cared about he was on American soil -- where he was wanted in forty-eight of the fifty states (Alaska and Idaho weren't places he'd like to hang out). 

The midday sun hit the road making waves of heat which started to make his vision blurry as the traffic started to get thick. He felt his eyes slowly shut as the warmth made him a little too comfortable. He forced them up as he focused on driving.

Driving all night had its drawbacks, and now he was feeling it. Out of the corner of his eyes and the haze, he noticed a ran down motel near by.

Unfortunately, he saw the kid notice his actions, "The all powerful 'Tooth, gettin' tired," she mocked him as he drove out of into the parking lot.

"Shut up kid," he tried to stifle a yawn as he got out of the car and headed to the front desk.

He got the best room there, the benefits of paying in cash. When he got to his room, all he could imagine was how good it'll feel when he got his head on an actual pillow and he didn't care it was midday. He crash landed on the bed and closed his eyes.

A nagging thought came in the back of his mind. They'd be in New York soon; he might as well make some contacts. He growled when he reluctantly got up. He got to the phone as he dialed the familiar number.

When he heard someone pick up, he didn't wait to answer "Ruth, I'm comin' over tomorrow, set up my rook 'kay." he hanged up. He'd been to the brothel regularly over the years -- they knew who he was. Maybe he'd find out a way to get rid of the kid by then. He would jump for joy if this impending tiredness didn't hold him back.

He put his head back on the pillow. He sighed as he tried to go to sleep. He felt a little uncomfortable as he turned a little. He stared at the ceiling a couple of minutes and he looked over to the clock -- 12:15.

He looked around and the kid wasn't around. Finally, he'd get some peace and quiet. He turned over again and closed his eyes. He kept them closed for a good while, yet he couldn't get to the state of dreaming.

He turned over again; the sun was seeping through the curtains. He grumbled as he got up and closed the curtains and tried to go to sleep.

In the semi-darkness he turned over again. He started to get aggravated. How could he be able to sleep so peacefully in the middle of a place where he felt bugs crawl on him and the chill blew to his bones, but couldn't sleep on a semi comfortable bed and a semi comfortable pillow? He let out an exasperated groan, maybe cause he's sleeping with most of his clothes one.

He took on his trench coat and the orange and red costume beneath it; he was only in his boxers. Now he'd get some sleep, he turned over and closed his eyes.

He didn't know what his problem was. He looked at the clock -- 2:15. He spent two hours trying to sleep. He grabbed the pillow beneath him as he put it over his face.

He heard a familiar faint voice come from beneath the floor. The kid was coming; he put the pillow off his face and pretended to sleep. So that's where she was.

He heard her trying to sing something. He heard the words 'wake me up' and 'make my blood rise' but he heard her stop suddenly.

"Hey 'Tooth --," she started to yell, but stopped herself. She probably noticed him sleeping.

"Eh he's sleepin', damn I wanted to see the rest of The Simpsons," he heard her snap her fingers.

Her voice seemed closer so he kept his eyes shut.

"Heh, I never get tired of this," he heard her whisper, "Who woulda thought a psychotic killer could look so peaceful when he's sleepin'," the voice came from the other side.

He'd never thought he'd hear those words come out of her mouth. His enemy genuinely complimenting him on his sleeping habits. His eyes started to fall on their own, but he heard a click of the television downstairs.

"Woohoo, Back to the Simpsons," he heard her whisper excitedly. He thought for sure he'd be able to sleep now when she left, but now he was back to square one. 

He screamed out loud as he threw the pillow on his face -- he needed to sleep.

"Nightmare or what," her voice resonating over the pillow.

"Yeah sure," he lied. He turned on the T.V. as he flipped through the channels. He finally found the station that had 'The Simpsons' on.

"Ya don't mind if I watch," she questioned him.

"Sure kid," he started to watch with her. A few minutes into it he yawned.

Over the buzz of the T.V. in his room, the room below and the laughter of the kid over the jokes, he managed to get some shut-eye.


	19. Miserably Lit

He felt his eyes slowly lift against his accord. The blurry image of the clock stared right at him and when he focused the clock stated it was only three. Did he just only sleep fifteen minutes? His eyes had to adjust to the moonlight as he reached over to the remote to turn off the static on the television. He didn't sleep fifteen minutes rather twelve hours. He cursed himself as he busily put on his clothes; Ruth was expecting him in less than ten hours.

He looked around and the kid wasn't around again. She probably was watching a show with the people downstairs. He growled under his breath. He could've left her behind, but he knew she'd just follow him wherever he would go, torturing him with her lack of singing and dumb questions. 

Grumbling under his breath, the cold autumn air blew against his face when he noticed her image beneath the fading street lights. She looked outward towrards the trees like she was in front of an audience. Something was different about her -- this whole entire week he saw different faces of the kid and he didn't have time to see another one.

What the Hell was she up to? The clock was ticking and he needed some time at the brothel. He started to walk up to her but then her mouth opened towards the trees:

_And now I'm all alone again   
Nowhere to turn, no one to go to   
Without a home without a friend  
Without a face to say hello to   
And now the night is near   
I can make believe he's here_

She sang those words quickly and motioned to herself. He quickly hid back into the shadows -- she actually knew how to sing. He huffed a little, the "he" in the song was probably the runt:

_Sometimes I walk alone at night   
When everybody else is sleeping   
I think of him and I'm happy   
With the company I'm keeping   
The city goes to bed   
And I can live inside my head_

She sang just as quick as though nothing was to bother. Did she know he was here? He grunted at the irony of the situation. He'd be sleeping right now, missing out on her singing -- not that he mind -- she wasn't that great of a singer. When she took a breath to sing the next verse, his ears perked to pay attention.

_On my own   
Pretending he's beside me   
All alone  
I walk with him till morning   
Without him   
I feel his arms around me   
And when I lose my way I close my eyes   
And he has found me_

She slowly sang as she started to walk forward. The lamposts dimly lighting where she walked. He didn't need to smell her to know what she was feeling-- if people could hear or see her, they'd feel her despair. He didn't care though -- he was a ruthless, psychotic killer that killed better singers. He stayed in the darkness, quiet for a few minutes waiting for the next verse:

_In the rain the pavement shines like silver   
All the lights are misty in the river   
In the darkness, the trees are full of starlight   
And all I see is him and me forever and forever_

She opened his arms to her audience of trees as the lights flickered on and off. He clutched his fist, he felt blood drip down his palm. Logan would never see 'Jubilee' ever and vice versa. He'd make both of them suffer for as long as he lived. Though that meant not being able to kill the runt -- and making sure that no one kills the runt either. The catch twenty-two made him growl a little louder, but the sound of her melodic voice made him unable to hear himself:

_And I know it's only in my mind   
That I'm talking to myself and not to him   
And although I know that he is blind   
Still I say, there's a way for us_

I love him... 

She admitted it. He knew that she loved the runt. He'd taunt her about it for the rest of her miserable afterlife -- her fault for loving the runt, he heard her voice became powerful as she geared up for singing her heart out:

_...But when the night is over   
He is gone   
The river's just a river   
Without him   
The world around me changes  
The trees are bare and everywhere   
The streets are full of strangers_

I love him...

Her fault for loving the runt. He repeated those words like a mantra. She acknowledges the runt leaving her all the time -- but she has the audacity to say she still loves him:

_...But every day I'm learning  
All my life   
I've only been pretending   
Without me   
His world would go on turning   
A world that's full of happiness   
That I have never known _

At that moment, he hated the runt and he hated the kid. The runt got the kid's affection easily and he had to work for something not even close to it. He paid for Birdy -- the closest thing to the relationship he ever had. He heard her gasp a little -- ghosts shouldn't be out of air:

_I love him_

She slowed down like her words ached. If she could cry, it'd look like it.

_I love him _

She started to fall to her knees as she gestured towards her 'audience,' then looked down at the ground.

_I love him   
But only on my own_

He saw barely breath out those words as she crumpled to the ground. She deserved to be broken for her own stupidity for loving someone that didn't love her back.

"I know yer there 'Tooth, ya can come out," her voice came back to what she was known for. He slowly came out of the shadows, angry as ever -- he'd take the rage out on her verbally.

"I heard better sounds coming out of my butt after I eat at a Mexican restaurant," he hoped his wounds hit her pride -- yet she started laughing.

"Do ya even know where tha song is from 'Tooth," she questioned, but before he could answer she started to speak again, "that's right -- not inta musicals," she finished as he gave her a blank stare. She just rolled her eyes and sighed, "Couldn't help it, the auditions were today and well -- I'm kinda dead at the moment," When she said this, he grunted at her apathy about being dead. He got in the Viper and started it.

"Theater never fit ya kid," he absentmindedly told her as he turned on his lights.

"Like you should know," she hastily replied back in disgust. He stayed silent, hoping she wouldn't catch his mistake, "Oh 'Tooth, ya should wipe that tear down yer cheek -- it don't fit ya," He looked into the mirror -- she was right. He angrily clawed out that side of his face and they were off into the darkness once again.

Pain meant nothing, at least the secret he held stayed just that -- a secret that he could spring on her when he wanted to make her feel what he felt now.

|++++++++++++++++++++++|

The song is from the musical, Les Miserables. I recommend downloa....buying the soundtrack. Look for the song "On my Own". 


	20. Substitute Plan

He'd been so consumed with the thought of getting rid of her and her obsession with the runt that he neglected some details. As he drove in the darkened highway, lit by only the cars in front of him, he looked over to her.

Only if she knew what he had planned for her. She had her fun using his memories against him, torturing him with things he wanted to forget. He'd have to bring up things that she couldn't forget -- things she couldn't run away from. This'd be tricky though...

He'd spring his trap when he found a way to get rid of her. A little farwell gift to boot her to hell where she belonged.

"Ya know -- yer gettin' kinda close ta the mansion," she finally piped up. He expected something quicker -- but after that little performance earlier on, she just shut up and looked out the window. No matter, she did bring up a valid point. 

"Doesn't matter J, we --," he started to say, but the specter moved her head and looked at him in shock.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, time out 'Tooth, who gave ya permission ta call me that anyways," the specter glared at him not backing down. He smirked, she caught that -- good.

"Whatever kid," he took that smirk off his face, "If ya wanted ta call the X-jerks ya woulda called on all those opportunities ya took over my body," he looked straight at her glare as she backed down, "nope I think ya want me all ta yerself."

She started to make gagging noises, "like gag me with a spoon 'Tooth, I want ta torture ya and be yer concious till ya find someway ta get rid of me remember!" she looked forward as she looked defeated, "and the X-men won't help with that, first o' all, they'd torture ya fer me and that'd ruin my fun and then they'd send ya ta jail -- where all these guys would be lookin' at ya and -- wait..."

"Shut up kid," Sabretooth yelled at her to stop her pondering.

"Yer right, seein' a guy bangin' ya backdoor is a little too much fer me and besides --," she slyly started till he turned on the radio to full blast -- a crappy song about angels dyin.' They were close to Ruth's brothel and he parked on the side of the road. 

"What kind of place is this," her annoyance grated on his nerves. He slammed the door to his Viper as he walked up the steps towards an old Victorian home. He pushed open the door.

"Creed baby," a blonde woman wearing a few select items ran up to him and hugged him.

"Honey," a black woman wearing even less than the blonde woman ran up to him and hugged him too.

"Missed you girls," he hugged them with a huge grin plastered on her face. He looked to see the kid put her finger down her throat.

"Get me Ruth," he let them go as he gave a gentle slap on the butt to both of them. They giggled at him and left.

"Dumb and Dumberer have left the building," the specter motioned to the girls. He just rolled his eyes as he saw an older woman with short brunette hair came out to greet him.

"Victor, long time no see," the brunette came in for a hug.

"Ruth ya got my room ready," he asked her as she got out of his grasp.

"Yeah, and sirloins will be sent up to your room shortly -- what girl would you like for today," she walked up the stairs and he followed. He didn't have to think for a second. He set his plan into motion.

"Get me J tonight," he gave a toothy grin as he rubbed his hands together. He saw Ruth frown a little bit along with the specter.

"I'll get her right away," they got to a big oak door. She opened it to reveal a nicely decorated room with a huge bed with silk sheets being a centerpiece. He entered as the doors closed right behind him.

He went straight towards the drawers, finally some stuff that'd help out to get rid of her. He got out some guns that actually worked and clothes that weren't a trench coat. Unfortunately, he'd have to go someplace for fake I.D's and the sort, so he was stuck with the very unequipped Viper. He began to look for his phone book when she popped up in front of him.

"How nice, its a home away from home," she phased right through him as he turned to see the kid float around the room, "so you come here to eat, do ladies and leave, that's nice."

He wasn't about to argue with her. He stretched as he started to undress.

"Geeze, geeze, I get your point 'Tooth -- I just don't want to see it," she rolled her eyes as she started to phase through the floor.

"Ain't no objections from you, good I could work with this," he blurted out. He grinned when he saw his little plan working as she came face to face with him.

"I don't like the seein' a chick get in on with you -- actually it disgusts me 'Tooth," she made little gagging noises, "but a deal is a deal," she shrugged as she started to go through the floor again.

"Aren't ya curious ta see the girl that wants me," he had to stall her a little bit more; he wanted to see the reaction on the specter's face when his slut came in.

"I lived with women with triple D boobs and goo for minds -- I think I'll pass to see another one tonight," her body halfway phased through the floor.

"Ya know that there's a room below us, you'd probably see worse than here," he interrupted her. He smelled J coming up the stairs with his sirloins -- just a little bit longer.

"I'll take my chances and have a nice time with this J person" the last words she said when she phased through the floor. He was about to yell at her to come back when the door opened. An Asian woman whose white top and yellow trench coat were too tight trotted her way in with a tray full of meat.

"Mr. Creed would you like to have a bite," the woman winked at him.

His fun ruined, mentally he didn't want to deal with this slut. She was just an obstacle on his way to getting rid of the kid, but his body needed this.

"Alright girlie lets get this over with," he took off the rest of his clothes and pounced on his prey.


	21. Warning Shot

He looked over his handywork that lay before him -- the result of hours of work. A couple of scratches here and there, blood seeping out of the neck where he crushed his fangs into and a smile on her face. He felt her try to nuzzle up with him; he pushed her out of the bed.

"I don't do morning afters -- ya know that already," he informed her bluntly as she started to pick up her clothes.

"Whatever you wish Mr. Creed," she tried to say as politely as she could, but he knew otherwise. The scent of disappointment and fear could never be mistaken. She wobbly walked out the door and closed it. With his senses, he could hear her cry and run down the stair -- this made him grin a little.

He looked on the nightstand and saw tradition. Every time he had sex with one of these ladies, he'd smoke. He opened the new pack of clove cigarettes and he tried to smoke one -- but he spat it out. He couldn't believe he smoked this garbage once. Where'd he put those Marlboro light's? He looked around the room to see where he put it. After a few seconds of no success, he threw the pack of cloves still in hand randomly and decided now would be a good time for a shower.

He got up from his silk sheets and yawned. He looked around again, no one was around; so, he went straight for the bathroom. A quick shower would have to do and he'd be off trying to find out ways to get rid of her.

The thought of the kid crossed his mind. He went in to the hot water with angry thoughts. She was nothing but trouble ever since that day around a week ago. He lathered his head furiously as his thoughts always came back to her.

She made him more human, the whimsical thought made him punch the side of the shower wall -- leaving a permanent dent. He liked letting the feral part of him out. The blood of others on his hands made him happy, right?

He stared at his claws; he didn't kill a human since that day, but what suprised him the most was the anger and bloodlust that lived in his mind were subdued more than what Birdy.

He scowled at the thought of his old lover. No, he put his hand in his face, his hired hand.

"Umm...'Tooth," he heard her voice go beyond the steam.

"What kid, did ya want to see my point after all," he peeked his head through the curtain -- the usual casual and cocky side came up to greet her.

"Let's just settle this once, shall we," she went past the shower door and she stood in front of his naked form. She didn't even look at it, "One, when I took over your body the first time I saw it and let me say, I'm not impressed."

He growled at her and covered himself up, "yeah, so what's the two," he yelled through a clenched jaw.

"Two?" she asked playfully as she floated through him and went behind him. He turned to face her again.

"You went through the trouble ta come here, so what's the two," he yelled again. He really wanted to slice her throat were she stood -- been there, done that.

"Two," she contemplated for a moment. She was actually thinking about it while he was naked in the shower.

He punched another permanent dent into the wall, "Get out," he screamed with all his rage, but she just shook her head and laughed.

"That's right, two, see when I was downstairs, I heard yer old pal Ruth on the phone. She just told the person on the phone that yer here. Now this means that she betrayed you or she won you a sweepstakes," she made the options appear through hand gestures, "Now I think the betrayal part sounds good to me, how bout you," her left hand slunk down.

"Ruth wouldn't betray me kid," he ripped down the shower curtain as he got out and dried himself. With only a towel on he crept towards the door. He opened it a little and took a whiff. Nothing smelled out of place.

"I don't know what yer problem is kid, but Ruth ain't like that," he turned around to see her form sitting on a chair.

"Oh," her eyebrows perked, "and you trust her because?"

"She ain't let me down before and she knows I'll gut her if she did," he impatiently ripped his towel off as he saw her face turn away.

"So yer sayin' that I'm lyin' then," she put it out there.

"Yeah," he gave a snarl to her as she just put up her hand and then just put out her middle finger. 

"Name one time since ya gutted me when I lied to ya," she calmly asked.

He opened his mouth but words didn't come out. None -- the simple answer that he didn't want to admit.

"Exactly," she kept her middle finger up to put the exclamation mark to the truth.

She didn't lie to him. He couldn't remember a time she did when she was alive either. She was a pain in the butt, yet she didn't lie to him. He was going to question her about that but his ears perked when he heard something that was supposed to be silent.

He looked through the window and scanned the area. The leaves blew in the night sky as a little flash came from trees around a mile away. He sneered as he went away from the window. He put on his boxers, jeans and shirt -- then he picked up his red bandana and slowly put that on.

"I guess yer right kid," he sullen admitted as he went to the drawer.

"I told ya, see I'm --," her words cut short by the cocking of some guns.

"Whoa, what d'ya think yer doin'," she stood in front of him.

"Ain't no one alive after I'm through with 'em," He stood ready to get out the door.

"I don't think so -- ya see that'd be against the deal and --"

"Don't get in my way kid," he warned her as he went through her. He went to turn the knob when the door exploded. He fell backwards as his guns flew out of his hands, he crashed on the bed as he shook his head to get focused.

"We're here to take you in Creed, you can't escape," the voice -- he knew it. In front of him was the leader of the X-men, Cyclops and next to him.

"For Jubilee, you will be taken in," another form came out of the smoke, the blue elf-looking mutant, Nightcrawler.


	22. Unwaranted Help

He ducked another shot from the leader of the X-men, "Ain't one ta stay and chat," he jumped at Cyclops, only to get a chest full of optic blasts.

He howled in pain as he plucked huge shard of glass from his back -- crashing into a mirror is always a fun thing.

"That's one for Jubilee," Cyclops let out with his usual monotone voice, "Creed you're coming with us -- now." Cyclops shot out another optic blast as Sabretooth dodged it with ease.

He looked over to the floating specter. She tried to cover her mouth but she couldn't stifle her yawn. He looked around, he lost track of the elf. From past experiences, he knew never to let your eye of the teleporting mutant.

"He'll pop up behind you in 3..." He heard the kid announce as he prepared for the strike.

"2...1" she yawned as he grasped something off his back and threw it as hard as he could at Cyclops. The leader wasn't prepared for the attack as the momentum of the blue mutant forced both of them out the door. He heard some breaking of some wood, a yell as both fell from the second floor and a hard thud.

The screaming of the girls didn't give him the look of shock; he looked over to the apparition who went over to look out the door.

"Ol' predictable one-eye an' elf," she shrugged as she ambled over to him, "reinforcements are comin' up so I think the window would make a good exit," she ushered him to the huge frame.

He didn't have to think twice as he jumped out, glass shattering around him. He landed gracefully. He glanced around to see the Viper was still intact. He started running towards it but something crashed into him hard.

He shook the cobwebs out of his head and looked up. He recognized the face, but couldn't remember the name. Her skin was pure silver as he saw the tears stream down her face.

"Ah don't care what they say, Ah'll kill you Creed," her thick southern accent came out as a fist came down to meet his face. He barely dodged the attack as her relentless assault kept going.

When he blocked her hits, his arms felt like mush. He swore that she smelt like adamantium, but it couldn't be possible. He kept blocking, trying to think of a plan to get out of this mess.

"Umm, 'Tooth I know ya know this but someone's comin' behind ya," she warned him. His eyes almost bulged out of his sockets; he was too focused on what was going on in front of him -- novice mistake. He felt the presence of someone going to jump him. At the last minute he sidestepped as he saw a figure phase through the silver skin girl.

The silver skinned girl collapsed to the floor as a familiar figure stood there in shock. He sniffed the air and smiled.

"Ya think ya can take me on Kitty," he unsheathed his claws as one of them beckoned her.

"Why do you think I'm alone," she got in the battle stance the runt taught her, but he laughed outright.

"Only four mutant smells girlie," he gently tapped on his nose, "now if ya wanna take me on be my guest -- I have time," he stalked over to her.

"Umm...'Tooth, no you don't," she pointed to the door and saw the leader of the X-men groggily lean against the door.

"Yer lucky today frail," he unsheathed his claws as he ran to his car.

"Where's Logan," he heard Kitty yell as he got into his car and started the engine.

"Hurtin' in Canada," he gave her a toothy grin as he pushed the pedal. He heard the back window crash as the familiar sound of optic blast went through it; he looked at his mirrors and saw that Cyclops opted to help the fallen silver girl instead of pursue him.

He laughed out loud in joy -- some of the best X-men were after him and he got out of it. Normally, he'd would've been caught easily, but this time was different. He looked over to the passenger side to see the skulking kid look out the window.

"Thanks fer helpin' me take out yer friends, kid," he gave her the biggest smile he could give. He gained a powerful ally tonight and eventually he'd use her to his advantage sooner or later -- he had time.

"Ain't like I wanted to Creed, I need you alive," she glared at him as he grimaced a little. So she was taken advantage of him. He swerved to the side of the road -- he didn't care if the X-jerks were after him, he got of that mansion, twice. He wanted to find out her agenda -- now. 


	23. BeautySadness

"Why the hard stop 'Tooth, need ta potty or somethin'," she kept looking out the window and he hit the dash to get her attention. She turned and gave him that famous glare he'd been used to.

"Ya need me alive, huh, why?" he angrily asked her as he bared his teeth to her. Of course, it didn't work as her glare didn't waver.

"Ta have moonlight walks on the beach and talk about poetry," she rolled her eyes, "why is it so important ta ya anyways, aren't ya always used one way or another," her blunt sarcasm just fueled his rage.

"That ain't the point kid," he stared at her as he started to foam at the mouth, "I'm askin' -- no demandin' -- why do ya need me alive" he tried to not show his frustration, but she could probably tell by his heavy breathing and clenched teeth.

"I don't have ta tell ya anything 'Tooth," she glared him down, "How does it feel ta not get somethin' ya want?" she berated him without raising her tone.

He had to think of another way to get her to talk, "So why do ya owe me," the first words that came out of his mouth. She gave him a puzzled look.

"Persistant are we?" she questioned, but gave out a sight, "Cause ya didn't kill Wolvie," she was lying -- he knew it.

"Bein' a ghost affects yer memory kid, cause that was before," he pointed out his fault. He heard her mumble a curse. He felt like he was getting closer.

"Aren't ya goin' ta move -- the X-men could be right behind us," she spoke quickly to change the subject, but he wouldn't let up.

"Nah, I like this little talk we're goin' through kid," he kicked up his boots onto the dash and leaned back, "besides it's been a while since I've been behind bars -- it could be fun."

His unpredictable reply even shocked himself, but he wouldn't show it. She'd break soon; she had to weigh her options -- which one would she choose.

She gave another big sigh as she gave him the finger, "alright I'll tell ya if ya move, move, move," that's all he needed to hear as he got up and went zero to sixty in three seconds.

He waited for a couple minutes. If he found out what she owed him, then there could be a way to go back to his old life. Killing, murdering, blackmailing, and being alone: those were all the things that made him who he is. He was better off the way -- he was -- wasn't he?

"Now that those X-jerks aren't comin' after us, mind explainin' what ya owe me kid," he couldn't wait and probably it wasn't important anyways -- like how he saved her from the Phalanx or leaving her alone when he was in L.A.

"What ya want and explanation now -- couldn't it wait till mornin'," she gave out a sheepish grin. She was toying with him, pure and simple. He pushed the pedal harder, going beyond the one hundred miles per hour on a two-lane street -- a sign came up quickly, it meant cliffs ahead.

"What are you doin' 'Tooth," she asked hurriedly as he didn't care anymore as he went to one hundred and twelve miles per hour.

"Ya can control my body kid, but I'm the only one who knows how to get out of this -- tell me what ya owe me -- now," he yelled the last part at the top of his lungs. He kept it at one hundred and ten miles per hour, easier to control.

She was dead silent, her eyes darting left and right. He waited as he pushed the gas a little more. She made it a point to not look at him.

"You helped me kill myself," with those words he pushed the brakes as hard as he could. The popping of tires could be heard in front of him and behind him.

Suddenly he flew out of the car, breaking the windshield. He couldn't open his eyes but he felt a whole lot of pain. He was rolling, jagged rocks becoming imbedded into his loose skin. He kept rolling on a downward spiral.

When he finally stopped he opened his eyes. The night sky bloomed with small stars. The pain overwhelming as the stars disappeared one by one. He breathed deep, and he felt his lungs rejecting the oxygen. His heart pounded and broke at the same time. Those words she said with a tone he never heard her have before -- purity mixed in with truth. She wanted to die; the thought kept crossing his mind over and over again as the darkness consumed him.


	24. Reasons Prelude

* * *

As his view became focused, he knew that the kid must've taken over his body. What would she be able to do? He felt his skin peel from his body as the pain overflowed through his body. No matter where he woke up, he'd figure out what the hell the kid was thinking, but for now -- he became resigned to see into her memories.

"Danger Room setting, Jungle," he heard the automated voice echo out the empty arena. In a flash, the cold metallic area turned into a place filled with strange sounds and even stranger plant life.

"Don't think I'll be easy on you, Jubilation," he knew that voice -- Beast.

"Same here," he heard her voice ring out the room as he saw her run. She looked around for a place to hide -- or at least that was what he thought. Instead she ran out to he open field. Perplexed by this event, he cursed about how dumb the kid was.

All she did was stand there, she didn't scan around for her hunter, "Ya can come out blue-boy, I ain't hidin'," she crossed her arms as she tapped her foot.

He thought she was asking for it. He saw her turn suddenly as a blue beast lunged for her. Why does this scenario seem so familiar?

A huge explosion knocked the Beast out of the air and too a nearby tree. His fur singed and smoking. She ran over to the fallen form and gave out her hand.

"Need help -- loser," she winked at him as Beast graciously accepted her help.

"My stars and garters, Jubilation, what just happened?" Beast barely breathed out while patting his blue fur.

"Oh you mean this," she gave a tap of her foot and another explosion could be heard a good distance away. The Beast just ran to the direction of the boom, and she just shrugged and followed him.

Sabretooth, only a spectator in all of this, suddenly saw the damage. A crater the size of a car was all that was left in the artificial jungle.

"Explanation please," He saw Beast survey the emptiness that lay before them.

"See blue-boy, been thinkin' why do I have ta paff only from my hands -- maybe it can come from other places, maybe my foot," She was about to stomp again when Beast caught her boot.

"We don't need another demonstration," Beast gave out a relieved sigh, "that doesn't explain the distance and explosion, usually --"

"Bright sparkles, mini-explosions, yeah yeah gotcha," she winked at him, "Since trainin' with Emma, I got better at controllin' the boom -- the pretty color and explostions," she gave him a thumbs up to the suddenly down Beast.

"Jubilation, I just want to say --"

"Save yer pity for someone who gives a damn blue-boy," her tone rising, but she cleared her throat, "Are we done fer today, I need ta get some Gucci shoes that look so good with this one outfit."

"Well ye--,"

She didn't wait for the rest of the response as she just walked off.

* * *

Slowly getting back to reality, he tried pushed himself up but the pain pushed him back down. He went through a windshield and skidded out of a car at around one hundred miles per hour. He done that before and he were in a lot more pain the last time.

Maybe his healing factor got better or those X-jerks helped him heal. Where was he? He opened his eyes as he looked in front of him. The sun seeped in this enclosed area and in front of him the ghost of the person with so much power -- of course he wouldn't admit that.

She smiled at him, "I see sleeping beauty is awake -- next time you break like that remember ta put on a seatbelt -- it saves lives." Her face and voice stated like there was nothing wrong, that everything that happened last night meant nothing. He tried to give a mean look, but she ignored it.

She sat down at the opposite side of this area, "You been out for a couple o' days, knew you'd make it, but didn't think you'd take that long."

She sighed as she diverted her eyes, "Why didn't ya kill me back at L.A. all those years ago," his eyes became wide; he didn't feel like explaining nothing to her -- she had some explaining to do, but he'd like to see her face when he told her the reasons.

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. She looked at him with concern as he tried to talk again.

"Don't strain yerself 'Tooth," she berated him, "I guess I'll be the one talkin' for now." She was about to say something, but she remained quiet.


	25. Reasons Part 1

His stomach growled and the pain didn't let him move. He must've damaged his throat when he tumbled all over the place. He barely had enough energy to look down to see flesh showing through his skin, but slowly was recovering. His had no shirt, but his pants were ripped and cut.

"Well ya can't see it, but we're not exactlly at the X-mansion here," she tried to say cheefully, but anyone could go through the rouse, "Don't know why -- but if they could, they'd get ya," she tried to state as though it was a fact. The things became silent after a while.

She took in a deep breath, "Four Hundred Thirty One," the silence finally broken between them. He couldn't move his head, to see her -- but didn't have to. He noticed a change within the specter from the sound of her voice, "that's how many people I've seen ya murder 'Tooth," 

He smiled internally at what kills she saw. Did she see the ones where he tortured them or the quickly dispatched their measly lives? Yet, something was bothering him -- why would she bring this up now?

"In all of them, ya always smile -- yer pleased with yer work I suppose," she gave out a sigh, "yet the night ya killed me 'Tooth, where was that smile?"

He wasn't? He remembered giving a toothy grin during the . He wanted to reply, but it felt like gravel mixed with broken glass mixed around in his throat.

"Ya smiled when ya hurt Kitty, ya smiled when ya hurt Amiko," blues eyes suddenly made contact with his -- full of curiousity and anger at him, "heck, before ya smiled when ya tried ta kill me all those years ago, but -- never mind," she left the thought open as silence drifted between them once again.

He saw her gaze leave his again, "Four," he pondered what that number meant, "The number of women ya banged and cared about."

Was she going back on her deal? Good that means that they could set up something new -- something that allowed him to once again kill. His thoughts were once again disturbed by her famous sighs.

"I know what yer thinkin' and I'm not going back on the deal 'Tooth," she rolled her eyes at him," I'm only interested in the fourth chick, I only saw her now in yer memories and, well, she looked like me 'Tooth," she glared at him. He was caught in an unflattering light. He internally smiled again; he knew wanted to tell her about his infatuation and see the pure horror on her face.

He heard her sigh again as he tired to move to see her -- nope the pain overwhelmed him, "Maybe I ain't ready for the answer," she replied quickly. He never heard so much sighing in his life.

Then the realization occured -- when was this 'the memory game?' There were things he also wanted to point out? How he saw her power level go off the charts? why'd she wanted to die? or how she picked out a slutty swimsuit just for her 'Wolvie'. The thought of that last memory made him growl again.

"I need ya alive," she said trying to calm him down, "even though it's fun makin' yer life a living hell -- I got places ta go," she got up and looked out of the cave, "people to see," she whispered as if the the softer tone would lessen the blow; yet the look on her face meant otherwise.

"I know what yer thinkin' 'Tooth," she stated again as if she knew. She's luck he couldn't ask the questions he wanted to ask -- it'd ruin her concentration, "If I had the answers I'd tell ya, yadda yadda yadda -- we've been through this before 'Tooth c'mon," she stuck out her tongue as she looked outside.

"Until ya find a way, the deal is still in place -- ya can't kill nobody and I won't take over yer body except for cigarette breaks and keepin' ya alive," the deal was set without him saying a word and he couldn't wait to get out of it -- sort of. What was he thinking? He liked his old life being a loner, "oh and don't pull a stunt like that with the X-Men cause if ya get caught that'd mean that I'd be stuck with ya fer oh -- for the rest of yer life," her smile came back to her.

The front she put up, he noted. She acted like this before -- heck the whole week since this whole thing started. She didn't lie to him, but she didn't tell him the truth either. She was hiding something...

She sighed again -- that's what she used to do before she went on stage -- wait. She had this all planned out. The whole speech, the way she spoke and the lack of eye contact proved to him that there was more than what she was saying. She thought that this would satiate what he wanted to know. He was going to put a damper on her simplistic plan.

"Why--" he wheezed out, this time it just felt like sandpaper rubbing against his skin, "why didn't ya block."

She paid attention to him, he knew when her cerulean eyes stared at him, "why didn't ya kill me before in L.A," she answered with a question, he hated that. He was about to answer when he heard his stomach growl.

"Guess that has ta wait, don't it," She got up and went to the other side, "rest up a bit and we'll talk later," he tried to get up again, but the pain -- once again -- brought him back down. He reluctantly closed his eyes and rested.


	26. Reasons Part 2

He awoke in what seemed like a second later. The pain was gone. He flexed his muscles and yawned -- his throat was healed also. She wasn't waiting in front of him. Getting up he looked around, outside in the moonlight she stood there gazing at the stars.

The starlight centered on her and at that moment it reminded him of when he concocted a plan that included the specter in front of him.

"Yer awake 'Tooth," she yelled towards him, he scowled as his stomach grumbled. He clutched his stomach. Growling at her, he went off in search of prey.

+ + +

The hunger made him angry. He hadn't killed anything for a day; this made his claws twitch a little. The first thing he'd see, he'd kill.

A paw slapped him on the side of his face, knocking him down a little. He growled as he tackled the being to the ground and started slicing away. Blood splattered across his face as each slash made his smile grow bigger.

He looked down; a bloody mess lay before him. He sniffed a little -- it used to be a bear -- a young male. He didn't waste time on details as he took out anything type of flesh from the body and ate it.

+ + +

The bloodlust in his eyes were replaced with satisfaction. Wobbly, he walked back to the cavern. Only a couple more steps before she'd be into view. He looked through the corner of his eyes. She stayed in the same position looking at the stars.

He wiped his bloodstained mouth as he went in the cavern and leaned against the wall. He gave out a content sigh and patted his stomach.

"Is the little kitty full?" she appeared right in front of him, talking down to him like a child. He growled at her.

"Alright, Alright, I getcha," she gave him a thumbs up and sat opposite of him. She leaned against the wall and pouted.

The look that he liked. He couldn't help but stare at her as he remembered the fake version tried to pout, but he slapped her for doing such a horrible job.

"What are ya lookin' at 'Tooth," he made her a little nervous. Good, now is a perfect time to see her horrified look at the truth. The last time he was awake, she mocked him with her acting ability. He'd tell her the truth -- straight and open -- to see the scars he could make.

"Back in L.A. ya did a look like that kid," he started out making sure that he got all of the kids attention, "A couple years ago, I was assigned ta kill this director -- he was cheatin' on his wife."

"So you were --" she tried to interrupted.

"Don't interrupt Uncle Vic when he's tellin' his story," he shook her off with his finger and she became silent -- he continued, "I went ta check out the area, sleazy little place where he'd been 'directin'," he quoted as he saw her eyes divert his gaze. 

"What a pleasant surprise I got when I went in and saw ya in there, I'd be able ta kill the bastard and ya at the same time," he popped out his claws for emphasis, "I couldn't wait to slice both yer necks off."

He saw her shiver a little, he smirked a little, "Good thing I waited 'cause when he ordered ya ta take yer clothes off, ya yelled at him ya wouldn't, an' ya didn't see him come over and ripped yer shirt off."

He laughed at the memory, she -- apparently -- didn't think it was funny, "Ya weren't the kid that I fought all those years ago, ya gained somethin' on yer chest last time a saw you, ya cried as ya ran out of the studio -- ya didn't even see me."

He got up and sat right next ta her, she scooted over a little, but he didn't mind, "Ya looked really slutty, that turned me on," he heard her sneer as he had a evil grin plastered on his face, "but I had a job ta do, the director had no chance, I went ta search fer you, but that's when the rain happened."

He gave out a fake sigh, "Sure I had connections, ya were livin' with that purple freak, I coulda taken ya then but I decided ta wait -- last time I killed Amiko in front of him and I got this glow that ain't nobody gave me before," then he smiled as he got a little closer to the apparition, "think what'd to do if I destroy his kid's honey pot in front of him ."

He rubbed his hands together, still caked with blood, "I wanted yer 'Wolvie' ta see ya dragged off so I can taste and break that ol' honey pot of yers then kill ya," that was the plan. He recollected the meticulous planning and timing he put into this venture. He followed them to Canada and when the kid was alone he'd jump down, she'd block, he'd knock her out -- then the runt would come out and try to save her, the trap would get the runt and he'd make her scream in desire and pain; yet she didn't block. At the time he didn't care, killing her and doing her were the same difference to him, because in the end he'd hurt Logan.

Her laughter broke his concentration, "What's so funny Jubilee," he called her kid just to annoy her, but now her name would do more damage -- or at least he thought.

"So that girl ya were bangin'," she continued to laugh, but he just grimaced.

"Just practice," he tried to regain his composure, but she was still laughing.

"Gee, ain't that pathetic," her laughing died down and her words hit him like someone punched him in the gut, "ya spend yer life tryin' ta get back at Wolvie and try ta hurt the ones that he loves -- but ya end up empty handed."

"What makes ya so sure that I'm -- " he bluffed but her she turned to face him with a cold stare that shut him up.

"All the plannin' gave it away, why dontcha get a hobby like furniture building or seomthing," She got up, "One point fer me, negative points fer you furball."

Once again, she stole another pleasure from him, "I hate you Jubilee," he roared out slamming his fist into the side of the cavern, rocks poured down like rain.

"Oh this isn't Dawson's Creek, keep yer teenage angst ta yerself" she asked him as she got out of his sight. He didn't care why she wanted to die anymore, he'd find a way to get her out of his life -- end of story.


	27. Reasons End With a New Appreciation

Now what was the fastest way to his nearest check point? The constant thought running through his head. He started to climb out of the ditch that he was in. Remembering the events that happened, his car was full of broken mirrors and flat tires -- if it was even still there.

He sighed as he grabbed another rock from the ninety-degree slope. She was next to him the whole entire time. She didn't say anything but her mere presence annoyed the hell out of him. He didn't have I.D. to get on a plane and he didn't have money to get another car. He hoisted himself up as concern furrowed on his brow.

His car, the Viper, looked good as new. The windows were in place. He hurriedly got to the back seat. His stuff that he bought a long time ago was still there: one and a half cartons of cigarettes, a bloody trench coat, the Desert Eagle replica and a box of cigars. Keys were on the hood of the car; he grabbed it and saw they were the right set.

He had three guesses on who did this and the last two didn't count. Now why would the X-men want to help him out?

"Ta good ta be true, huh furball," the hair on the back of his neck bristled being called that nickname.

"I know that Jubilee, I ain't stupid like ya," he roared at her. Usually most of his prey would cower in fear when he got to that level, she just rolled his eyes and went to the trunk of the car.

"Homing device, on the car itself, probably on the goods too," she phased inside the car, "wait no, the cigarettes seem good, ya can't put a homing device on somethin' that expendable," her tone hinted something.

He craved a cigarette right now, but he wouldn't do it. He'd light one up, she'd bug him for some, he'd say no and they'd get in a big argument ending where he's forced to see her sappy memories. He wasn't in the mood to for another headache - so he ignored her.

After a few minutes of silence, she phased back out of the car, "So what furball, where do we go from here."

He threw his hands up, "we start walkin'," he started to walk into the other direction, he didn't have to look back to know she was rolling her eyes at him.

"Ain't ya got them C.I.A connections ta help out in situations like this," she was obviously annoyed, so he'd have to play to that anger just to get a rise out of her.

"Nope, and I thought ya like the outdoors, what me killin' animals and ya away from those crappy malls ya like shoppin' at," he pushed the most well known button of the former mall rat.

"Argh," she let out a frustrated groan. He looked back at the distressed form. He must remember to press that button more often. He heard a car swerve and something hit him hard. He flew back a couple of feet, landing on his back. He'd seriously put a hurting on the person. He heard a car door slam shut and the engine still was running -- that persons mistake. He faked a groan as he heard footstep approach.

"Sir are you alright," he heard a guys ask him, why couldn't he get a woman to hit him. He rubbed his head as he sat up.

"Watch where ya goin' next time, now I need yer license and registration so I can sue the pants off ya," as he expected the other guy, who wore a suit that was little too small on him, turned pale.

"Sir you seem fine --"

He grabbed his neck as he groaned in pain, "that ain't what my neck is feelin'," reeling him in slowly, the next move would guarantee his victory, "ya can make it up ta me if ya want ta switch rides," Victor looked over the other mans shoulder. His luck, a S.U.V.

"Umm..." he smelled the surprised man taking the bait, "sure, let me get something out of my --"

"No time," Victor got up and pushed the guy to the car. The guy's head bounced off the bumper. The man was unconscious, that was a good sign. He went over to the car, smashed the backseat and took the cigarettes and started to head over the S.U.V.

"That wasn't nice furball," she wagged a finger at him. He just sneered at her.

"He ain't dead Jubilee, so don't get yer panties in a bunch," he brooded over to the S.U.V, "and I ain't fond of walkin' with ya jabberin' at me." He opened the door as he threw the cigarettes to the back seat. He smelled pine forests, he cursed the inventor of air fresheners and floored it out of there.

"At least ya coulda gave him the keys ta the Viper," she pointed out. He checked his pockets; the keys were still in there. That's when he noticed his apparel -- he hoped the guy had some clothes in the back.

He went to look in the back as he swerved to the side of the road.

"Why ya gotta do that -- oh," Jubilee started to say as she looked in the back from the passenger seat. Someone short, bound by cloth all over his/her body. He/she looked like a mummy and was moving like one too -- not that much.

He growled as he slapped his forehead, he should've taken the Viper instead.

"Is it dead?" her somber question made him sneer a little. Did it matter if that thing wrapped in sheets was dead or not? He'd have to deal with it in the end. He sniffed the air, the air freshener made it hard to know. He'd have the pleasure to un-wrap the mummified thing.

He unlocked the back door as he got of the driver seat. He went in through the back and took the mummified body outside. No sense getting his S.U.V. dirty with a corpse. When he touched the thing, it wiggled a little. So the thing was alive.

He drew his claws as her face appeared right in front of him, "Geeze, it only wiggled a little and yer tryin' ta kill it," he growled at her as he lifted the thing outside.

"Hold still," he ordered as he slashed down at the sheets and in a split second later they split in half the form beneath them unharmed.

He heard clapping from the backseat of the car, "now that's talent," she sarcastically gave out but he ignored her to study the figure that lay before him.

He perked his eyebrow. The sleeping form looked no older than a blonde, overall wearing, boy -- except for the dog ears that drooped from his head, claws that grew from his toes and fingers. He sniffed the air; the kid was definitely a feral. Now there were only two things he could do with another feral, kill it or...

He got up and walked over to the driver seat.

"Ya ain't serious are ya, leavin' a kid out in the middle of nowhere," she griped at him. What was wrong about living the boy out in the middle of nowhere? When he was young, he was forced to survive at that age and look how well he turned out to be.

"What d'ya expect me ta do kid," he opened the door as he stepped in. Again her face appeared in front of him. He knew that look she gave him and he didn't like it at all.

"He ain't mine Jubilee, we ain't takin' him -- he'd just slow us down," he slammed the car door as he turned on the engine.

"Look why don't we revise the deal," she blurted out quickly. He turned off the engine as he just heard the word of the day.

"I get to kill again, no problem," he announced quickly. He knew that he wouldn't get it, but the first rule of bargaining -- always go high.

"Yah right 'Tooth," he started the car again, "Alright, Alright one more kill the rest of the trip," he turned off the car. The seller always wanted it low.

"Fifty along the way, no randoms, just people that get in my way," a more realistic deal, his claws twitched in anticipation. She just rolled her eyes.

"If I wanted ta, I'd --," she argued.

"Why don't ya then Jubilee," he asked seriously. She could do that, but she didn't.

She gave a disgusted grunt. She stammered a little as she tried to gain her composure, "Seein' all those people ya killed, the fear in their eyes -- I can't stand it." If she could hit the dashboard she would, "how you enjoy it -- I don't know and I don't care."

Jubilee walked away from him. He knew that she gave away something she didn't want to. The boy was that important to her -- he flashed a small grin. Now he had to take the boy and use him to his advantage.

"One kill, if Logan gets in my way, I will kill him," he gave a very lenient offer. She slowly nodded her head.

"Not if he kills ya first 'Tooth," she confirmed, the deal took place. He got out of the S.U.V and gently picked up the mutant blonde boy. So the boy had a tail, he had to adjust his grip to carry him to the back seat.

He put him down, got in the driver seat started the engine and was off again -- with one more annoyance that he will be able to use to his advantage.

The boy slept peacefully, unaware that a psychotic killer drove in the front. Creed wasn't going to do anything though, Jubilee had some affection for this boy and he'd use those weak emotions to his advantage.

The drive bored him. The radio was on, but nothing caught his attention. Nightfall came and went and all he could do is try and not stifle a yawn. His gaze often wandered to the passenger side. She was too busy looking back at the blonde boy with compassionate eyes.

His mother used to have blue eyes. He shook his head as he tried to concentrate on the road. He was the man who didn't have a past, and if he did -- no one would give a crap. He shouldn't be the one to pity him now.

Her sudden movement jolted him back to reality. She floated from the passenger seat to where the boy slept. She tried to touch him but the boy shivered when her hand touched his face. She pulled her hand back right away as worry grew on her face.

Compassion wasn't one of the things that his mother portrayed a lot. She would usually peer down in the basement when his father smell didn't reek down the hallways. Her blue eyes pierced through the darkness as her words became embedded in his mind -- I'm sorry.

"The boy ain't wakin' up soon, so why don't ya leave him alone," he lashed out. This portrayal of affection made him sick. He had to focus at the task at hand -- manipulate Jubilee.

She obliged as she floated back up to the passenger seat, "yer trap yappin' like that will wake him up." She was defensive, time for the personal question.

"Why you care so much, ain't like he's yer blood," he pulled back the comment a little. Making her angry now wouldn't go anywhere.

"He's an orphan like myself," she pointed a thumb back at herself and winked at him, "also look what's in the glove." her tone abruptly became somber.

There couldn't be anything in the glove compartment that would shock him. He banged on it and it opened. Flyers flew out and landed on the seats. He didn't have to read the whole sentence before he ripped up the sheets in an instant.

"N.A.M.B.L.A," he muttered to himself as he focused on driving.

"He was goin' into a crappy life and he probably didn't know it," she jerked her thumb to the sleeping form.

He just sneered at the comment, "What? You think he be better off with a psychotic killer who's talkin' to a ghost?"

He saw her wince, which was a good sign, "We're goin' ta drop him off somewhere, so he can be picked up by the X-men."

He laughed out loud, "Yer gettin' delusional Jubilee, why would ya risk me gettin' captured by those X-twerps instead."

She grew silent, her plan was way off base and she knew it. He had a better plan. He knew this one would get a rise out of her, "The kid is bein' dropped of at the first house we see, then the authorities could take care of 'im and we --"

"I ain't givin' him to no foster home," every word accentuated full of anger. This didn't surprise Creed but he knew if he pushed on he would have a harder time manipulating her.

Suddenly, he heard a yawn come from the back. He looked forward as she looked back.

He smelled no fear from the boy.

"Hello ma'am what is yer name," a cheerful voice rang out and reverberated in the car.


	28. Side Tracked

Sabretooth pulled the S.U.V. into the side of the road. This new development made things a little bit more interesting. The kid could probably be his ticket to get rid of this annoying specter. He looked over to the shocked Jubilee and a smile of promise appeared on his face.

"Umm...my name is Jubilee," she responded cheekily as she floated out of the passenger seat and sat right next to the boy, whose eyes followed her every movement.

"Hello Auntie Jubilee," his face beamed a bright smile as his gaze went towards the astounded Creed, "Hello sir what is yer name?"

Creed sniffed the air. The smell of country and innocence -- it started to nauseate him, "Ya can see her?" Creed answered with a question.

The boys forehead winkled a little, "Auntie Lee, she's right there," he pointed over to the surprised specter next to him. He went back and beamed a smile.

"His name is 'Tooth," she jerked a thumb at Creed, "and ya know I'm --"

"She's dead kid," he interrupted as he went to start the S.U.V.

"I know, she's like mommy Uncle 'Tooth," Creed couldn't help but flinch a little as he started up the vehicle and went back to the road. So the kid can see and hear Jubilee -- that's fine. He'd use that to his advantage.

"Auntie Lee, what happened to Uncle Brian, he said we were going to Disneyland," Creed smelled the boy was innocent in this way. He wanted to slap the boy for being so naive. He suppressed the urge and opted to listen to how 'Auntie Lee' would respond to the question.

"Uhh, he gave ya ta us 'cause he was too busy to go to Disneyland," her reply made Creed have the urge to slap the girl around for giving such an obvious lie. He smelled that the boy believed her though -- he smelled it.

"Oh are you bringing me home," he looked in the mirror to see the boys ears droop a little.

"Sure...ah...what's yer name," He saw Jubilee become comfortable in her surroundings. Smiling, he tried to think of what he had to do to use --

"Iggy"

-- Iggy to his advantage.

"So Iggy, where do you live," Jubilee asked again. Creed didn't want to seem that he wanted Iggy to go home; yet, all he could do is stay silent and pick his points.

Light flashed into the car as a neon sign blinked in. He didn't bother to check. Usually he'd wave it off but you can't miss a huge neon sign of a wolf that slaughters a cow again and again.

"We should be there soon, the Slaughterhouse has some good food," the boy in the back piped up as the smell of blood and cooked meat started to flood into the S.U.V.

As usual, this drove Victor Creed wild with a little bloodlust. It'd been hours since he ate something. He U-turned as cars honked at him. He quickly found a parking space as he opened the door with such ferocity; it almost broke off its hinges.

Going towards the door, he noticed the variety of motorcycles parked outside. He nodded, as he had to remember who owned the Harley out in front. He heard the timid opening of the door as small steps hurried over to him.

"Uncle 'Tooth, you can't go in like that, my daddy said a man --," "I don't care boy," he pushed the little kid away from him as he pushed the black dirty doors that lead into this dank food hole. He heard the classical music stop as so many eyes looked at him. Murmurs erupted from every facet of the room. Creed took a step back outside and growled -- this didn't look like no steak joint. By the way it looked, this place could've been mistaken for a high society banquet. A man approached him and made sure the door is shut behind him.

"S...Si...Sir --,"

"What!" he yelled impatiently at the orderly. He smelled fine meat coming from the kitchen and he wanted to be served now.

"Co...come...this...way," fear came from every pore of this orderly. He would bruise the guy later as he growled in response.

"Uncle 'Tooth, Uncl --," he felt something bump into his leg. He turned around and saw Iggy rub land on his butt and gave a little yelp.

He saw the orderly's eyes turn wide. The boy wouldn't stop him from getting some food. He picked up the orderly by the collar, "Yer goin' ta serve me and the boy," he tightened his grip around the collar, breaking the pristine bow tie, "now."

The orderly gulped, "okay."

"But Uncle 'Tooth --"

"Shut Up Boy!" he yelled as he bared his teeth. The boy just slunk back a little -- good, the boy knew his place. He'd figured out what to do about the boy after he ate. 

The orderly tried wipe the dust from his clothes, "You...and the...boy...will...have...to... get...dressed...for...the...occasion." 

Creed barely could control his anger. They were in the middle of nowhere, he was hungry and this orderly had the attitude to give him some guff. He prepared to give this guy a new orifice, when the orderly put up his hands. 

"We'll give you and your boy appropriate clothing," the orderly spoke so quickly that Creed almost didn't get all of it.

He didn't have money. Did that matter? The orderly smelled of fear, but not subterfuge. So today he'd get free clothes, free food and do some damage no matter what, "lead the way frail," he commanded as the shaken form lead them away from the front door and towards a side entrance.


	29. Lack of Sense

Flooded with the scent of clean, he gazed on the rows and rows of suits in front of him. You got to be kidding him. This was an obvious trap -- he felt it in his bones; yet, didn't smell it in the air. Someone had to set it up -- and he was about to find out who. In the meantime, he might as well take advantage of this situation.

He nodded his head, sure he hated wearing these itchy things, but at least it was better than what he wore now -- a pair of cut up shorts.

He casually stripped down and went through the suits. He didn't like any of them. They were either too small or they looked too crappy. He ripped the one that looked crappy and shrugged; he'd get away from this situation so he didn't have to worry about paying for any of this.

"Auntie Lee how bout this," he heard the kid chime up. Did the boy follow him here? Before he could turn around and address the issue he saw Jubilee's reaction from the corner of his eye.

She knelt to the boys level. For the first time in a long time, she smiled...at the boy for picking the gaudy light blue seventies suit, "umm, lets try that one over there," she pointed out to the one on the opposite side of Creed. The boy's tail wagged as he dropped the suit and went off.

He saw her floating towards him; he went back to rifling through the suits.

"Hmm," she questioned in front of him, "I think ya need somethin' with stripes."

"Why should I let a ghost tell me style," he interjected, "ain't like yer an authority on it." This was true. He destroyed that suit, then that black trench coat. He ripped another ugly suit as he looked for something for him.

"Hello, I'm the former mall rat, I have taste in clothes, heck I use to live off clothes," she pointed out -- there went another suit, "for someone that tried ta keep tabs on me -- ya sure forgot the point where I used ta be a fashion designer."

Wait? When did this occur. As she absentmindedly looked through the clothes, he wondered how could he not know that information. His informant told him every detail that he wanted to know. He growled to himself, the information got him to this point right now.

"I got taste in clothes," another rip in his suit interrupted him, "better than yers Jubilee," he openly challenged her.

"Oh really," she answered the challenge, here they go, "when ya look at Iggy, you'll be sorry ya didn't take my advice," she floated away to the where she pointed Iggy out to.

Another ripped suit fell before him, "Don't care Jubilee," he pushed away another suit and then he found it. The ensemble came with a hat and everything. He liked the style.

He started to put it on one leg at a time. A perfect fit if he didn't say so himself. So he checked it out in the mirror. He dusted away some lint off the suit. He looked like he came straight from the twenties. A suave debonair gangster ready to kill someone stupid enough to cross his path, he liked the thought.

A set of clapping came from behind him. So Jubilee admitted defeat. He'd take any victory where it came from. He turned around to face her only to see her attention wasn't on him -- rather the boy.

The boy wore the same hat, which covered the droopy ears. The same suit, same pants, and same shoes covered the boy.

"You look kickin' Iggy," she whistled at Iggy who smiled at her.

"Thank you," he saw the boy bow to her. Creed didn't like it -- a miniature copy of him. He growled as he slashed at the boy.

The suit the boy wore torn to shreds before him. He shouldn't have done that. Many things could happen that won't go to his favor; yet, he felt he needed to.He smelled fear coming from the boy but it the boy didn't give it off.

Giving a weary smile, the boy went off away from the mirror, "I guess Uncle 'Tooth didn't like that," the boy tried to sound strong -- tried being the key word. The boy ran and good riddance.

"Wait, Iggy --" Jubilee called out to the boy. He got a glare from the girl. He responded by giving a toothy grin and walked right through her. There was only the original.

He smelled the meat outside wafting. He waited for no one as he walked inside the hall. The classical piano played smoothly into the background. Chatter amongst the rich was abundant. 

"T..This way sir," the orderly stuttered as he was escorted to a single table.

He followed the dumb orderly as he was seated in the darkness. Go figure, "Steak medium rare frail." he ordered as the orderly quickly got the message. A few minutes later he got what he desired. Creed sniffed the meat, nothing smelled wrong about it and it was so long since he ate this -- he just dived into it.

How can something that is advertised with a wolf killing a cow have a high standard of decor? Creed asked the question over and over again as he bit into the medium rare steak.

He looked around. Rich brats laughed to the table behind him as rich geezers coughed in front of him. Using his hands to pick up the bloody part, he took another bite out of the meat. 

He hadn't seen the boy or Jubilee the whole time he was eating. This didn't bother him, he'd rather eat alone than be with the youthful feral or the jubilant specter. Besides, it gave him time to think about some things.

How can the boy see the specter?

What's up with her change in attitude?

Why did he freak out what might be the only chance to get rid of the specter?

All these questions running around in his mind, but then the scraggly orderly approached him.

"What would you like to drink sir," the orderly asked him. He noticed the orderly gaining some confidence -- that wouldn't last long.

"Vodka," he barked out, people were watching him, but he didn't care. He gave the orderly a deathly stare. The scared orderly stumbled out of view as Creed went back to his food.

"Didja hear of somethin' called a fork," he heard her voice in front of him. 

He took his eyes of the meat. Finally, he'd get some answers, "Bout time Jub --" the smirk on his face faded when he saw the woman in front of him wasn't the specter. She wore a sliver gown that flowed like quicksilver. Her red hair flowed down her back like red rivers of wine cascading down a waterfall.

"Is this seat taken?" she asked him. Her voice didn't sound his tormenter. He must be hearing things or something.

"Yer funeral Red," he pointed over to the seat in front of him. He eyed her as her elegance exuded from her Aphrodite like body.

"The guy over there told me about your -- umm -- language," her debonair words made him want to kill the orderly. Like clockwork, the orderly approached him with his drink.

"Here you go sir," another breathe of confidence. Creed knocked the glass out of the orderly's hands, "I changed my mind, whiskey," he ordered. He smelled the mixture of fear and anger coming from the orderly, "Problem bucko," Creed stood to his intimidating six foot six.

The orderly gulped down his pride and left the two alone. Creed sat back down; the laughter of the woman in front of him started to annoy him. He growled a little as he took another bite from his almost finished medium rare steak.

"You're manners are disdainful," she covered her mouth, "I like that," she put her arms on the table. Was that amorous intent he smelled? Did she actually want him? Memories intruded into his mind.

"Well Red, what'dya want," he told her coldly as he experienced this before, "If ya want a good ride, then I'll give ya a night ya never will ferget," he winked at her. He smelled lust filling his senses -- obviously his actions didn't deter her.

She got up and went around him. Putting her arms around him a card flicked from her hand, "When 'yer' ready to leave darling, I need some business to take care of." 

Her arms left his body as his arousal almost became apparent. He watched her form bounce towards the piano. He looked down at his food, as he didn't give it a second glance as he stood from the table.

He wanted her, now. He stalked her. His gaze followed every flirtatious action. He started to become like a predator stalking his prey. He felt something stop his movement for a second. He looked down and saw nothing as he went forward towards her.

She winked at him as he almost approached her. Again he felt something tugging against his shoulder and then his legs. He tried to move forward, but this force was something he never felt before. He tried to list all the things that could be stopping him. He felt now psychic intrusions and nothing felt wrong with his body.

Suddenly he was lifted up into the air. Could this bitch be telekinetic? He struggled as her laughter changed from one so familiar, which he loved to hate, to one that he wanted to learn to hate.

"Poor predictable Sabretooth," she shook her head, " 'Ya' should have looked at the card before coming towards me -- oh wait, let me help you."

His hands started to move on their own as he fingers tilted the card to his view.

"Sanguine and Humble: Professional Assassins"


	30. Unwarranted

Struggling against the binds he couldn't sense, he looked down to see the people still dancing and talking like nothing happened.

"Notice something animal," her words made him growl, "These people are happy, they've become everything they wanted to become." She walked over to one a young man in a particular suit. She put her hands around his neck, "You see they don't notice me or you or," she twisted the neck in front of her as the lifeless form fell to the floor, "this -- thanks to my associate".

The orderly came out and bowed. He grabbed his head and walked to the fallen body, "thank you Madame Sanguine, his thoughts were --"

"Weren't you busy trying to get this cur out of here," she glared at the orderly; this made him struggle harder to get out of his binds.

She just looked at him wagging her finger at him, "many have tried, but all have failed," she then gave him a pout, he almost puked at the site of it, "too bad I have to let you go soon."

"What's yer game frail," he asked bluntly, he felt something slice into his arm and he winced in pain.

"I'm not the one trapped in strings," she pulled her hand forward as he felt the strings that bound him grow tighter, "now where was I, ah yes, the ever boring speech why your here -- at least you should know why before I give you over."

No one paid attention to her as she sat on the piano, "This place is my little trap for the unfortunate souls like 'yerself'," he saw her tap her finger and he felt another slice going through his right leg muscle. He gritted his teeth in agony, "I keep my slaves here till someone wants them, and people do want them."

She stopped in front of him as people clapped for as the pianist changed tunes to something soothing and relaxing, "Never in my wildest dreams did I get the famous assassin, Victor Creed," She got off the piano and walked close to him. He tried to swipe at her, but his arm didn't move. Instead he felt strings tear into his arms and legs. Blood dropped to the floor like a leaky faucet.

"I'll kill ya," he promised. She just laughed at him as he felt a string tighten around his throat.

"No 'yer' price will pay for the damage that you've done to my precious suits and then some," the string loosened around his throat. He'd been in tighter jams than this; he'd just have to find out a way to get out of it.

He growled as the strings started to embed itself into his skin. He grimaced in pain, but this plan wouldn't backfire, "Is that the best ya got frail?" He taunted her; he felt the sting of the strings go into his flesh, his healing factor automatically healing the wound.

"When I get out of here, I'll gut ya real good," another sting into his arms and legs. The pain started to overwhelm him, his vision started to become blurry. The strings were almost into position.

"Then I'll gut that orderly," he saw a fire light into her eyes.

"No one touches him -- no one!" he braced himself for the pain coming. The sound of the door opened.

"Uncle 'Tooth," He didn't have to see straight to know that things were going to get worse.

"Humble," he heard the red headed devil yell out. He could've gotten out of the situation, but now things have changed. When the boy gets what he deserved, he still would have another chance to escape -- but now he'd have to wait as his arms and legs burned in pain. He roared out in frustration and rage as the orderly appeared before him.

"Yes Madame Sanguine," he saw the pathetic being bow.

"You know how I feel about kids," her sly reply got her another bow as Humble's eyes started to flair red. The people that were having a good time stopped what they were doing. Their eyes where turned to the same tint as the orderly's. 

He closed his eyes in order to conserve energy to fight the pain. "Destroy the boy," he heard orderly order as a small yelp echoed in the eerily quiet room. The thunderous footsteps of twenty people went towards the yelp as the slamming and locking of the doors filled his eardrums. The boy was going to get it, which he hoped was soon.

"Iggy, run under that mans legs," He heard a voice command, that was definitely Jubilee's. He smelled fear from the boy as a smaller set of footsteps ran. 

"What a frolic indeed," The woman in front of him smiled; he didn't have to see it to know it. He concentrated on the pitter-patter of feet and the advice Jubilee gave the small feral.

"Duck, jump, go under the table, watch out behind you, move the chair..." with each command he heard crashes and groans. He smelled the concern grow with the two people in front of him.

"Humble what's going on," he heard Sanguine yell at Humble.

"I don't know Madame Sanguine, it seems like the freak has a pair of eyes in the back of his head," Creed couldn't help but smile, if they only knew.

"Watch out," he heard Jubilee yell as the youths footsteps stopped. He heard the youth whimper. Finally, Iggy was caught.

"You have to bite him Iggy," Jubilee advised the youth. He could hear struggling. He knew the boy hesitated.

"But Auntie Lee--" the boy started to argue with her. Creed grimaced, if the boy didn't do as Jubilee said he'd be in deep trouble.

"Who is the boy talking to," he heard the woman in front of him questioned no one in particular.

"You have to Iggy, to help Uncle 'Tooth," Creed let out a deep growl. He didn't need help. He was fine a couple minutes ago. He heard a deep scream in pain from the orderly, as he smelled blood spurting from two places.

"What's going on Humble," the woman's pitch became hasty.

"Don't let go Iggy," Jubilee encouraged the young feral. He had to open his eyes for this. He saw the orderly grabbing his arm in pain, screaming like a little girl. On the other side of the room, he saw Iggy clenched down on a woman's arm.

"I told you not to get too attached to her," the woman in front of him scolded Humble.

"I'm sorry Madam--," he saw the Humble fall to the ground as the woman who had an Iggy on her arm also fall down. The rest of the people fell down also. The orderly didn't get up -- passed out from the pain (amateur).

"Now isn't the time to pass out Humble," Sanguine ran over to the fallen form trying to rouse it. Unfortunately for her, the binds that tied him loosened. This would be great for him if the strings weren't embedded in his muscle. There wasn't time for a second guess.

"Igster hurry and get 'Tooth down," she yelled at Iggy, who got off up the floor and skipped over to the tied up Creed.

"I did good huh Uncle--"

This was total embarrasment! He being saved by a kid -- a feral one no less!

"Yya see the strings," Jubilee questioned and Iggy nodded, a good sign, "I need you to take them off me".

With a flash, the boy jumped and bit off the one that held his arm. Creed yanked the other strings out of his legs, arms and throat -- ignoring the great amount of pain.

He arrogantly walked over to the unsuspecting red head. He yanked her by her hair to meet her face to face. She struggled under her great power, but they both knew it was futile.

"Now, ya can't say I don't keep my promises," he unsheathed his claws as his hand started to go down her.

"Yer goin' ta waste yer kill on Miss Bimbo over there?" his tormentor asked him. He growled as he got back to reality.

"Who wants that bounty on my head frail," he asked her.

"Logan...Logan has put a ten million dollar bounty for you alive, " the frightened form in front of him replied. She didn't smell like a liar. He threw her across the room as a thud echoed in the empty room. Another unconscious body lay on the floor.

He turned around to see Jubilee's reaction. Surely, Logan would've dropped rank with her for being a coward. Instead he saw her float over to Iggy.

"You did great Iggy!" she praised the boy. Iggy beamed a smile at her as his tail wagged.

"Thank you Auntie Lee," the young feral replied.

"I had everything under control," he yelled at both of them, "Ya had ta ruin my plan."

"Which one, the one where ya expected tha strings to break from the stress of that adamantium bones ya got," he growled at her, how did she know?

"Sanguine and Humble, assassins sent fer Wolvie's hide -- he tried doin' that, but yer throat ain't made of adamantium. Took Wolvie a while ta talk again," she described the events to him. Was he thinking like the runt now?

"The kid saved ya, admit it," he didn't want to admit it. First a ghost saved him, now a young, poor excuse of a feral saved him -- he didn't like it. Before his animal instinct of slaughtering the boy took over, he remembered he'd have to deal with something he couldn't get away from if he did that. So he had to hit the next vulnerable spot.

"Yer goin' home kid," he grunted out, the boys ears flattened and the smile automatically disappeared, "this ain't a life fer you."

His venom hit its mark. Jubilee didn't protest what he said and soon that annoyance would be out of his life. He'd return him in good condition to a some place and be on higher standards with Jubilee.


	31. Snap

He tore off the suit the first chance he had when he found a set of biker clothes. Sure it didn't smell of him -- this didn't bother him. He had smelled of many people before. Of course they were dead, but what can you do.

He wanted to go with the Harley; yet with all the stuff that he stole from this place -- he'd have to stick with the S.U.V. Stacks of suits, raw meat (found in a small cooler no less) and ten thousand dollars in cash (found in a nice small suitcase) were packed into the back seat.

He smirked as he picked up all of these items while not watching where he was going. He could've stepped on some bodies or that crunch could've been something else.

Now he was driving in a silent S.U.V. In the passenger seat, the ghost of Jubilee sat staring at the dashboard -- not saying a word. He smiled as he recalled the argument right after he announced he was taking the kid home.

+ + +

He went through piles and piles of crap as he searched the offices. The specter showed up in front of him with a unpleasant look. He must've hit a nerve.

"He ain't got a chance where he's at," She practically got in his face about it, flailing her hands in the air. She tried to grasp at straws that became brittle, "his father let that N.A.M.B.L.A guy take his son."

"And ya think I'm a better, the kid almost died tonight," He knew what direction that Jubilee would try to put him in. Trying not to smirk, he gave his full attention to the apparition.

"I was there for him --" the trap has snapped.

"Yeah, ya were there fer him, but where was I, hangin' by threads," He pointed to his arms and legs.

"But I --"

"Ya know what Jubilee, I think yer right," he obviously tapped his chin, "I coulda done anythin' 'cause yer too busy with the brat." This was an undeniable truth. He would risk losing a way to get rid of her; but he got a feeling that things weren't what they seem with that boy.

Jubilee faded into the floor. All he could do is grin from ear to ear.

+ + +

Looking at his mirrors, he smirked as he noticed another sullen form. The youthful feral could only stare at the ground.

"Yer buckle ain't on boy," he growled at the boy. He enjoyed the scent of fear that came with his subtle intimidation.

The boy buckled up automatically, not moving his gaze. The boy's action reminded him of when he talked to the boy -- one and one.

+ + +

"Uncle 'Tooth," the boy walked behind Creed, "I don't want to go home!" The kid had the audacity to confront him.

After talking to Jubilee, Creed thought she would go to the boy, but she wasn't around. He had to make this quick.

He picked up the boy and slammed him against a wall, "Don't sass me boy."

The boy squirmed under his grip. Oh how he wished he could gut this poor excuse of a feral from belly to chin, but that'd be too much of a hassle to deal with, "I don't like ya boy, Hell, I hate ya." The boy tried to breath but only whimpered.

"Suddenly ya appear out of the middle of the blue, able ta see my ghost -- then ya lead me ta this place ta get captured! Now ain't that convenient," Creed connected the pieces. Usually, any regular folk would either do one of two things: they'd tell him the truth cause they aren't stupid or they'd try to lie their way out -- and his senses would detect that -- and he'd "coerce" for the truth. The boy stood frozen, shaking within his grasp.

"C'mon boy say somethin'," he yelled at the boy, teeth bared. The boy wasn't sent to kill him -- he knew the truth. He might as well instill a little life lesson before he'd send the boy on his way.

"Yer Auntie Lee ain't here ta protect ya, and if she didn't," he popped out a claw, "and if she wasn't here ya reward would've been a one-way ticket that ain't yer home boy," Iggy's face started to turn blue. He knew if he held him there a couple more minutes, the boy wouldn't be breathing; but that would go against his plan.

He dropped the boy as Jubilee entered from the floor.

"Iggy what happened?" she asked as she floated towards the gasping boy.

"He choked on some meat that's all," Creed answered for the boy. Jubilee just glared at him, turning her attention to Iggy.

"Is this true?" her concerned voice asked the composed feral. Iggy made eye contact with him -- who was he not to make sure he got the point?

"Auntie Lee, I need to go home," he replied as he left the room with her. All Creed could do is smile.

+ + +

In the S.U.V, he got the directions to Iggy's house. That was about twenty minutes ago, and from what Iggy told him, it'd be another twenty.

"Hate the silence," he muttered loud enough for both of them to hear. He turned on the radio, pacing through all the crap -- he found the perfect station.

"Ya like the man in black kid?" his arrogance pointed out with every word.

The car hummed with "A Boy Named Sue," as he kept driving as the boy didn't look up or say a word.

Sneering he focused on the road, the boy would be be "rewarded" for the humiliation he went through soon.

After some time, they got closer to Iggy's home. He saw the house in the distance between dying trees and the night sky. As the sound of the radio filled the air of the S.U.V. he knew that without it on, silence would take all three forms. The huge car pulled up to gravel filled driveway.

The directions he got were accurate, yet he didn't expect it to be in the middle of nowhere. He had to go off-road for most of the trip and he didn't mind that. He smiled when he heard a thud then squealing whenever he drove over a particular part -- there were no objections from his passengers.

"Yer stop kid," he didn't look behind him. He heard a door open and close. He saw the specter get out of the seat and phase through the door, "where da ya think yer goin'."

"Can't a girl say her goodbye's," she gave him a weak smile as she walked with the youthful feral to the door. He huffed as he crossed his arms. He didn't want her to go, but what could he do. She wasted valuable time for him to get rid of her and since he let this lead go -- the sooner he found another one -- the better.

He looked to his side as the boy approached the door. The timid little knock as the door opened. Even from this distance Creed could smell the whisky, he growled a little -- the same crap that his father drank.

A pair of arms pulled in the boy and slammed the door. So that was it. He turned on the engine and put the gear to drive. Where was that specter anyway? He looked back at the door; she wasn't near the dimly lit porch.

He tapped his claws on the dash. How long would he have to wait? All the girl had to do is say goodbye. He didn't want to get up and get her. That'd be wasting energy he could use to drive.

A crash of glass shattered his thoughts. He smelled the whisky in the air. He took another whiff -- blood, and it smelled of Iggy. He didn't care. He turned off the engine and closed his eyes. It'd be a while till Jubilee came out.

A yelp and a thud echoed in his head. He looked at the house. A dreary place with broken windows and bent frames reminded him of something he'd rather not remember. His couldn't tear his gaze from the place. This atrocity made him remember.

A voice, her voice, screamed at the boy to run -- to do anything. Her screams like those of years gone by. He didn't care -- he shouldn't care. She represented his "conscious" part of him that he killed a long time ago. He wanted to leave her behind. He looked around, why was he out of the S.U.V?

Time moved slowly now, a small body flew out of the front of the house, glass shattering everywhere. He recognized the slash marks on the front and back of the body and the tears the streamed out as the hard thud engrained into his mind.

The bloody and battered form slowly got up to his feet. With each step, Creed only heard a snap -- glass breaking on bare feet.

Snap

"I'm sorry..."

Snap

"Father..."

Snap

"It's my fault,"

He heard the small form whimper out those words.

Snap

The boy kept going towards the door, having barely enough strength to push it as he fell to the floor. Creed hesitantly followed the boy inside to see a man rushing towards the boy with a broken whisky bottle. He took a close look at the man -- it was his father!

Snap

A man he didn't recognize fell from his hands. He looked down to see an unconscious Iggy and to the left of him was the specter that could only look in awe.


	32. Faith

She floated over to him, surveyed the damage and nodded, "That was yer one kill 'Tooth," she gave a confident smile. He didn't understand what he did. What he saw and what he did -- he didn't mean to, but it ended up that way.

He turned away from her, nostalgia wasn't good for him, "We're leavin'," he tried to command her.

"You can't," he heard her plea as she floated in front of him, "Iggy's hurt and he could die."

"Ain't my concern Jubilee," he walked through her and approached the boy. Tattered and torn were understatements. He stood in the pool of blood the kid produced. He heard a faint heartbeat steadily becoming weaker.

"We should at least drop him at a hospital," he heard her voice waver as she knelt next to the boy.

"Ain't no hospital treatin' muties around here -- besides he'd be dead before we get there," he knelt down to calculate the damage.

"I can save him Creed, just let me take over yer body," he saw a specter who was about to cry, but ghosts don't cry.

"Ya owe me big Jubilee," he stood up and braced himself. He didn't think that far ahead. He wasn't thinking -- period. The warm darkness took care of that.

* * *

So he got something recent this time. The boy left the restaurant with only his hat and overalls on. On the verge of tears, the boy sniffed as he turned to face Jubilee.

"Why is Uncle 'Tooth so mad?" he asked trying to be brave.

This would be the time where she'd probably grieve her frustrations about him onto the boy; with that in mind, he couldn't wait to hear what garbage she said about him -- to use against her.

"Sweetie, he's always ornery," she knelt face to face with him, "he ain't happy even if he's supposed to be happy," he saw her hand go up and try to touch the boys face, but she only fazed through.

The euphemism of what he really is. Why didn't she tell the boy the truth? He's a sadistic and psychotic killer that felt no remorse.

"He's better than daddy though," he gave a weak smile. Internally, he snarled -- he wasn't like Iggy's father in any way, "he got angry when mother died...and...and," the boy tried to choke back the tears that ended up falling from his red eyes.

"Shhh...shhh," she tried to comfort the boy, "my dad was like that too," she confessed to him.

"Really," Iggy asked through choked sobs.

"Yeah, that's why I ran away so long ago," she smiled through her pain, "things were better then."

A silence came between both of them. The night wind howled as the crickets started to chime up one at a time. Her gaze looked away from Iggy. What was she thinking now?

"Can I run away with you and Uncle 'Tooth?" the boy asked bluntly. Her continued silence clued him in to her doubt.

"We'll see Sweetie, we'll see," she could only give a small reply, "now lets get ya somethin' ta eat," she changed the subject quickly. He gave her a smile as they walked together inside.

"Uncle 'Tooth --" a small voice asked as for the first time he saw himself through her eyes. He didn't think he looked that bad, but anyone could see otherwise. A huge pool of blood formed below him as pink, freshly healed scars covered him.

"Oh my God," he heard her say. He didn't hear her say that back then, maybe it was because of the pain, "we gotta save 'im Iggy," she whispered to the youthful feral and without a second doubt, the feral agreed with her.

Even after he treated them like garbage, they cared about his well-being. The must want something from him. Probably to use this event against him so he felt indebted to him. This wouldn't work though -- It won't work.

As the red-eyed figures started to clothes in on Iggy, he saw fear in the boy's eyes. Jubilee must've sensed that too, "Iggy, he'd do the same for you."

"But--" the boy started to protest.

"He would" she confirmed in a low tone, "Duck!" she yelled out as he started to come back to reality.

* * *

Creed awoke as the sun poured in through a broken window. In front of him, Iggy covered in red soaked bandages as he felt something about the boy. Iggy was foolish, innocent and he believed in him when it came down to it -- those feelings would almost gave the boy a headstone.

"He's pretty banged up and he ain't completely healed -- ain't like he got a healing factor like ya," her voice snapped him away from his thoughts, "I know I'll owe ya big Creed, but I'd like ta look after the boy at least fer a couple of days. After that I'll give 'im to the X-men."

He looked over the boy, "Yah Jubilee, you'll owe me big," he tried to think of a witty retort, yet no words came to his lips. All he could do is walk out of the room.

"Ya cleaned the mess downstairs," his tone sounded like an order than a question.

"No --"

"I'll deal with it," he answered her quickly. He hid and dug bodies his entire life. He walked downstairs, pondering if the boy was worth all this trouble.


	33. One Sided Conversation

Lugging a body over his shoulder and carrying a rusty shovel in his hand, Sabretooth walked towards the decaying willows and fallen brown leaves. Normally, after he killed someone, he'd lay the bodies strewn a certain way, so his handiwork would be appreciated. He whistled a little tune; he had a far worse intention in mind.

Going deeper and deeper into the woods, nature overtook any vestige of humanity. Low foliage, good sun intake, this would be a great place to bury a body.

"Ya know buddy, this reminds me of my old haunt in Canada," he reminisced with the body. He shrugged as the shovel hit the soft ground, "but I don't have that anymore."

He dug a good load off dirt and flung it to the side. He did this a couple more times before he had to wipe his brow from a little sweat, "Yer a lot of work, but it'd be worth it," he assured the corpse, whose stentch seemed to attract local flys, as he went on digging.

"Y'know ya ain't the first person I buried out in the woods," he kept digging, trying to converse with the corpse, "ya could relate to that other bastard now could ya," flies started to fly into the open mouth of the corpse -- Creed just shooed them away.

"As I was sayin' I remember when I was a kid doin' this -- kinda like de ja vu ain't it," he joked digging the ditch a little deeper.

"My pop used ta tell me he wanted a decent burial when he died, " his pace quickened as shovels of dirt flung onto the dirt body. Creed stopped and brushed of the dirt, "yer going ta be surrounded with this stuff, no use fer ya havin' it on ya know.

He went back to digging, "where was I, ah good o' pop," he looked at the ditch he made -- a good one foot deep, he'd have a long way to go, "this is the same man that used ta beat me mom and me -- ya can relate now bastard," the corpse slumped over, as Creed cursed under his breath. He stopped digging and walked over to it, placing it just right so the eyes stayed focused on Creed.

"There we go," Creed went back to digging, "I probably bet ya put Iggy in the basement, hell, I smelled the fear you put into him in there and his mother -- where'dya think I got this piece-o-garbage shovel," the shovel hit a rock. He just picked it up with the end of the shovel and flung it aside. He heard a good thump as he heard the scurrying of animals.

"Yeah, I was in there too once, Pop always loved hidin' his mistakes," a forceful shove broke the end of the shovel as Creed brought it closer to view, "now look what ya made me do," he walked over and bashed the skull of the corpse with the broken shovel handle. The satisfying crack of wood and bone made Creed smile a little.

"Well, this mistake got loose and killed his maker," he yanked the arm of the corpse, dragging it on the ground towards the shallow grave. Something snagged on the corpse, as he pulled harder. Flesh tore free, Creed held an arm up to his face.

"Didn't know yer where that fragile," he shrugged as he threw that part into the two foot pit, "That's when I found out he killed me Mom, saw her corpse there in bed." His face drooped a little as he dragged the maimed body to the edge of the pit.

"I buried her good, the whole six feet deep deal and all -- and I was just only eleven," He kicked the corpse into the ditch, "but here's my secret buddy, I buried my father second -- I knew I'd be too tired ta finish the job."

He started to push the mound of dirt he made towards the pit, "after that, it was the first time I slept in a bed -- they're comfortable ya know," some dirt fell into the grave, but he stopped pushing, "I went back ta finish the job, but my father's body was gone -- all I smelled were traces of scavengers, blood and piss."

He gave a final push as dirt shallowly covered the corpse, "I want ta give ya the same honor," he brushed his hands clean and walked out of the woods.


	34. Vacancy

The house came into view; he'd only been walking a couple minutes. Taking a deep breath, he put on that evil grin and stomped over the broken glass on the porch. No one owned the place, so it belonged to him now and his thirst needed to be quenched. 

He walked over to what seemed like to be a kitchen. Unwashed pots and pans littered the table. The familiar mold overwhelmed his senses. He sneered as he walked over to the old refrigerator. He discovered whisky, whisky and more whiskey. He growled as he slammed the door shut. The refrigerator gave a gurgle as it started to hum. 

Even more broken glass lay in his path. He walked over them as he glanced to see static on a television. He picked up the remote control along the way as he jumped into the recliner. The seat cushioned every part of his body. He gave out a sigh as he clicked on to a random channel. 

The first sight he saw he automatically changed the channel. If he wanted to be preached at by someone who didn't know how to apply make-up, he'd go to a brothel. He changed the channel again If he wanted to see the game, he'd go to one. 

Now this channel appealed to him. Half naked girls on the beach laughing at nothing, he grinned at the possibilities. When he get rid of these pests, he must go get some beach loving. The girls faded out and he frowned -- this waste of space advertised for Zima. He growled as he started to change the channel, but something caught his eye -- "urgent announcements" do that sometimes. 

"...the serial killer known as "The Slasher" has struck again..." 

A crusty old man in a suit announced. Creed shifted in his seat. He was called that name a long time ago, but he wasn't that stupid anymore. Sure he killed a couple frails with a knife and he wasn't caught, but that's before he got under the X-men's skin. 

"...in less than two weeks, the killer has murdered twenty blonde males. The last victim..." 

He didn't care about the details of the victim, something more pressing came to mind when they showed the body. The slash marks were too clean. Any regular knife would leave a clean cut, but each had a distinct slit. The slit across the victim's neck had a distinct and recognizable insignia. 

"Logan," he whispered through clenched teeth. Did he send the runt over the edge? Sure, he beat the living out of the feral version of the runt; yet, the marks shown here were not one of a feral, but of a cold calculated killer -- like himself. 

...Or rather, used to be like him. He wasted that kill on that gutter trash of a father. He stood up straight -- he'd should feel regret for doing that. Not for taking a life, but wasting a kill. He could've used it on killing one of the X-Men or better yet, Logan. He waited for the remorse to come, but it didn't. 

"What yer watchin' there Creed," he heard a familiar voice come from above. The apparition didn't appear in front of him, so he changed the channel quickly. If Jubilee found out about this, she'd try to weasel a way to go back to New York. That wasn't part of the plan. He'd have her under his thumb. 

"I didn't know ya like 'Little House on the Prairie'," she pointed out as he realized that he turned it to the channel that showed only family programming. He growled as he turned off the television. 

"Iggy's doin' fine, we should be oughta here in two days," He snarled in response. Two days wasted on they boy when he could be closer to getting rid of her, "yeah, when he gets up I'll make him call the X-Men and --" 

Her words became a silence to him. If Iggy went to the X-Men and Logan was there, he winced at the thought at the ways the runt can kill Iggy. He got up off the chair. 

"Where ya goin' Creed?" she asked with a annoyed tone. 

"Gettin' somethin' ta eat Jubilee, ain't nothing here," once again he stormed out of the house, confused as ever. Going past the porch as the howling of foreign animals sounded off in the distance. He felt his mind release all thought as familiarity controlled him. 

He hunted, at least that wasn't taken away from him. He knew where'd he go to get something to hunt. He smelled it when he buried the corpse -- deer. 

He laid low in the brush as a gunshot rang out in the lightly covered forest. Birds cawed in fear as hundreds of wings flapped through leaves. Someone got to his kill before he did. Making sure his footsteps wouldn't be heard, he made his way towards the loud noise. 

Pushing away the foliage, he sneered disgustedly at the sight before him. A doe, in her prime, lay on the hard dirt floor convulsing in pain. Above the suffering animal stood two middle aged men who probably knew nothing about hunting -- he could tell by the way the amateur held the gun. 

"You did a good shot Cleatus," the man in red flannel patted the one in yellow on the back. The yellow flannel wearing man holding a gun laughed from his gut. 

"Well, when you're an experienced hunter like myself, you know some things," the stench of lies could carry for miles around. The animal jumped a little, spooking the two men. When the too men calmed down, the "inexperienced" one of the two knelt to get a closer look. 

"Is it supposed to jump like that," the guy asked like a kid sticking his finger into an electrical socket. The man above him sweated a little, but instantly got his bravado back. 

"Step back, let's make sure this son-of-a-gun ain't moving no more," the other man moved out of the way with such haste as the array of bullets came. Something that was once majestic became a splattered mess on the ground. The meat, punctured full of bullet holes, would be hard to eat. He growled, not only did these bastard take away his kill, but messed up the meat also. 

"What was that," the "inexperienced" one frantically asked. He'd been too loud as he purposely made the brush ruffle when he walked. He saw the eyes of fear in both of them focused on the bush -- novice mistake. 

The one with the gun shakily went over to the brush, pointing the gun like it was a lighthouse of his safety. He didn't notice the claw that sliced the gun in half. The guy backpedaled toward his friend as Creed stood in front of them in his full glory. Was that a mixture of fear and blood he smelled? 

"Ya ruined my kill, oh well, I guess I got two perfectly good prey here," he popped his claws, that made their mouths gape in horror. He missed this feeling, the hunt that led to this moment. He stopped, no one was around to tell him what to do -- or stop him. He decided that he'd let one live so he could hunt him later but for now... 

He lunged and grabbed the one called "Cleatus." He noticed that Cleatus' friend ran screaming like a rabbit with nowhere to run -- how far he was to the truth. 

Now was the part where he heard the begging. What was it this time? Money, that's nice. Creed just tightened his grip around his prey's neck. Should he make the man suffer first or kill him outright? He couldn't have his cake and eat it too. He punched the guy in the face, making him fly up out of his hands. Using his speed, Creed caught him in the air and threw him to the ground hard. That'd be a few broken ribs that needed healing -- if the man lived. 

"Before I end yer miserable life, let me tell ya one thing -- yer the crapiest hunter I've ever seen," He lifted his claws and dealt the final blow. Human blood mixed with deer. 

Now he had to look for the guy's friend, immersed in bloodlust he went after his prey on all fours. 

A few minutes later of following the trail of tears, piss and fear -- he found his prey shivering and pale. 

"No...NO--" blood splattered onto the surround leaves. This one wasn't hard to find. Trying to hide underneath a bush isn't a good way to hide from him -- oh well, his prey found out too late. 

Heaving deeply the scent of death, he thought he'd be more excited than this. The first one, yeah it gave him that rush to his head, but this one made him feel nothing. The situation was the same. The man begged for his life, he beat the living soul out of him, he gave the same finishing blow like to the last guy, but he felt numb. 

He walked back towards the misshapen form of the doe, carried what was left on it on his back and walked towards the house in the middle of the woods. He'd have time to get this numbness out of his body. 


	35. Blood and Oil

He pushed the glass aside with his boot and dropped the carcass of the doe onto the porch. Seeing the sun go down over the horizon, he'd walked a little longer than expected. He didn't fell like eating the carcass raw, the numbness he felt made sure of that.  
  
He didn't get it. The whole time of walking from the woods to here contemplated this new feeling. He shook his head as he sat down next to the fallen doe. He focused at cleaning it up.  
  
"Hey Creed, what -- whoa," he heard her stop mid sentence, he smiled and didn't face her as he began his cleaning, "ya got blood, um, everywhere -- I guess ya couldn't wait huh," if she only knew the half of it.  
  
Creed turned to her and beamed a smile, "nah this one just gave me a hard time," he exaggerated the truth, "lost my temper that's all," He continued his cleaning of the meat, picking the bullets out of it.  
  
"I know ya couldn't do that, unless yer powers include shooting bullets out of yer --"  
  
"Some hunters wounded it, the doe ran, and I got the kill," he interrupted her thought. Did he just introduce the third party? He mentally cursed to himself.  
  
"So what happened ta them hunters -- kill 'em or somethin'," she got in his face and smiled at him. Why did she smile at him? Did she know?  
  
"Nah, just scared their sorry faces away, that's all," he lied not looking up at her, concentrating his attention to cleaning.  
  
"I'm impressed Creed, who would've thought ya kept yer word fer this long," she giggled and floated next to him and sighed, "its only been two weeks huh."  
  
Grateful she changed the subject he just nodded, "Yep."  
  
"Lets see, ya killed me, I turn out to be a ghost, We ain't seen nobody that can change this, along way ya almost kill yerself, get attacked by X- Men and Wolvie," he heard a slight pause in her voice before she went back on, "ya almost get killed by Sanguine and Humble, yet we met Iggy and ya killed his father," she recapped everything taking a deep breath after listing everything. He thought ghosts didn't breathe; what did he know?  
  
He just nodded, "Yep," So much had happened in two weeks, had he gone through it all with her? Everything seemed like a blur.  
  
"Yet in spite of all the opportunities and all the anger, ya kept to it," a tinge of something new feeling upon his heart and he didn't like it.  
  
He masked this confusion with a smile and looked straight at her, "What? Ya hold a low opinion of me," he meant this meant to be a joke, but when she hesitated he couldn't help but feel a little angry.  
  
"C'mon Creed, ya ain't a saint here, " she crossed her arms in front of her, "we were enemies fer what, the majority of my life and yer not on the top of my 'trust enemy' list, but these two weeks definitely changed my opinion of you."  
  
He didn't know he belonged to a 'Trust Enemy' list...Did she just say she trusted him, "Ya shouldn't trust me, we're stuck together remember," he tried to quickly dowse the flames she incited, "if I had ta, I wouldn't want ya around -- and why are ya sharin' this with me -- ain't the boy in pain or somethin'." The strange twinge that started from his heart started to spread throughout his body. His arms were unable to move to finish cleaning the kill.  
  
She made 'your-talking-too-much' hand gesture as she stood up, "I know, but we can't change that now can we," she retorted back with an informational tone, but now her tone became was going to be something malicious. He saw that in her body movement, "and fer yer information, I talk, that's what I do and that's what I do best," she pointed to herself with her thumb.  
  
He saw her calming down, floating towards the door, "I'm sorry fer wastin' yer time 'Tooth, but I felt I needed ta let ya know," She phased into the door.  
  
The new feeling coursing throughout his body felt like it froze his blood. He couldn't move as he was forced to see the stars where the sunset. So she trusted him, he shouldn't be feeling this. So he impressed her, he still shouldn't be feeling this. So he smiles only for her the last two weeks, which meant nothing. He is an assassin that just killed two people for fun and that meant he secretly broke the deal.  
  
What if Jubilee found out? He couldn't believe he didn't think of that. She wouldn't find out, he'd play the 'good boy' so she wouldn't have a need to search his mind.  
  
The question still bothered him. What if Jubilee found out? Would he lose her trust, her gratified look and her smile? This didn't bother him. This shouldn't bother him. This bothered him.  
  
He snorted, she wouldn't find out. He kept repeating the sentence like monk praying for safety. Able to move, he picked up the cleaned up meat and walked to where he parked. The blood on him caked into his fur as he put the meat into the cooler. He opened the door and reclined the front seat to the full extent. He looked up at the plain brown ceiling. He didn't feel like going into the house tonight. 


	36. I Starve

His small hands gently petted the soft fur. Even in the darkness he saw the fragile form in front of him. A rabbit that reminded him of the recent one that came down.  
  
His curious eyes traveled the life he held. He let it down and watched it scamper in the enclosed area. Leaning against the wall, he grabbed his rumbling stomach and cried out in pain. He wouldn't do it again, not again.  
  
The darkness and the stench of his own excrement entered his senses again as he fell to his knees. Why did he live his life like this? He fell face first onto the cold concrete.  
  
This position always yielded the least amount of pain when his pop yanked out his teeth and nails. He heard his father yelling upstairs. He heard a slap and a body fall to the ground. He felt hot tears squeak out of his eyes. His father started to beat his mother again.  
  
His newly grown nails scratched against the bottom of the floor as he forced himself to get up. The blurry outline of the door came closer as he heard his quietly went up the steps. He pressed his ear against the door.  
  
Foreign sounds bled through the door. He didn't understand them, but the passion behind them he soaked in. Another slap and another gruff angry tone spouting hurtful words reached his ears. He got used to the repetition of the actions. The first time he didn't know how to quiet his sobs -- he learned to shut up when his father found him.  
  
He let the tears flow as he felt the something hit the door. Caught off guard, he rolled down the stairs. The familiar sounds of broken bones and cracked teeth followed him. He didn't let out a peep when he landed on the floor.  
  
Making sure he was out of distance for anyone to hear, he groaned out load as he turned over. He felt his beck become wet. Odd, this wasn't the place where he went to the bathroom. Slowly getting up he saw what was the source of his discomfort.  
  
What used to be a rabbit lay on the floor motionless. He killed again. Horrified, he put his head in his hands. Taking the deep breath, the intoxicating smell made his stomach growl and churn.  
  
He was hungry...so very hungry...  
  
He awoke to the raindrops hitting the windshield. He peered out to see the clouds roaring above him. His gaze then changed to the dashboard time -- eight o'clock. He growled as he lay back down on the seat. This'll be the last time he'd sleep in a car. He let out an exasperated gasp -- didn't he say that last time?  
  
He looked in the mirror above him to see a familiar form coming towards him. Then he looked at himself quickly -- being covered in caked blood, looking to see slash marks in various parts in the car and then realizing his eyes were as if he were awake all night -- and tried to clean himself really quick.  
  
Glancing at the mirror again, she closed the gap. He saw the rain go through her, then remembered the time where she floated in fire and just like before, he'd never get used to that.  
  
He checked the mirror again and felt confident about his looks.  
  
"Hey Creed I think we're ready ta -- whoa ya look like ya had a run in with a 'make-me-look-like-crap-machine' a couple times over," her colorful way of describing him wasn't needed now. He was about to tell her to go away when he looked at her eyes -- was that concern?  
  
"Bad dream," she asked after a couple minutes of silence. The rain fell hard he felt conflicted. A part of him wanted to tell her to shut up but another part wanted to tell her everything.  
  
"Iggy had a bad dream," she continued as though he answered her, "He woke up in a cold sweat, the poor kid, talkin' bout how his father beat him and his mom."  
  
She sighed as she leaned back and stared out into the rain, "How he used ta be in the basement weeks at a time, he didn't stop cryin' -- he's young and ain't used to it, he probably would've learned over time," she assured herself as she zoned off for a second. He looked over to her; the contortions of her face and the fear in her eyes meant only one thing...  
  
He saw her shake her head, "I told 'im what happened ta his father and he ain't all happy or sad 'bout it. In fact, he's confused 'bout the whole thing." He understood what the boy was going through -- a little to well.  
  
"Uhh...he's pretty hungry right now and I can't cook and...well...the boy can't cook and --"  
  
"So yer askin' me ta cook fer 'im"  
  
"Well I-- "  
  
"I need ta eat, take a shower, all that crap anyway," he snarled out as he got out of the S.U.V. He opened the trunk, got the deer carcass and hefted over his shoulder. Making his way to the house -- he braced himself about the reaction of the boy. 


	37. Response

Casually jogging in the rain, he got under the porch feeling the blood of the deer carcass running down his back. He put the meat down and let it bleed down the side. With careful swipes, he cut pieces he could carry.  
  
Walking through the door, he noticed how dark it was. He stood for a while to adjust his eyes. He stomped over to the table set up in the dining room and plopped the meat onto the table.  
  
The boy wasn't here. He grew tired of waiting as he took a bite out of the meat.  
  
"Umm, Creed, that ain't cooking," a specter pointed out to him. He did promise he'd cook, but he was hungry now.  
  
"What the boy think he too good fer my style o' cookin'," he took another big bite into the raw meat. When he saw her roll her eyes, he couldn't help but laugh.  
  
She gave out a frustrated sigh, "He's still a little bit too weak, he's upstairs." She floated away from him. Shrugging, he picked up the two pieces of meat and followed behind. Stomping up the stairs, he took another bite of the raw meat. Approaching a door, he saw that Jubilee was nowhere in sight. She was probably inside talking to Iggy.  
  
He leaned against the door to listen in, but instead he tumbled inside due to his overwhelming frame. So he was wrong, Jubilee wasn't here. A boy shot up from the bed and stared at Creed.  
  
Was it fear? Was it hatred? Was it confusion? Creed had his guesses but he smelled all three, "Here," he threw the piece of meat at the boy, landing on the lap. Iggy didn't flinch at the sight or the smell of it, instead he weakly picked it up and took a small bite from it -- so this wasn't the boy's first time eating raw flesh.  
  
After another small bite, the boy put the meat aside, letting it bleed onto the sheets, "Ah yer wastin' some good meat boy." he taunted the youth as he started to walk closer towards him.  
  
Was it fear? Was it relief? Was it Confusion? His senses were once again powered with these emotions, "I saw you kill my father, Uncle 'Tooth."  
  
He stopped midway between the door and to they boy. So the boy was conscious to see the events happening. A mixture of anger and happiness filled the air -- but Creed couldn't pinpoint which started first.  
  
"So..." Creed retorted as he saw the boy trying not to make eye contact with him.  
  
"Thank --"  
  
"Yer lyin' kid, I can smell it," Was it anger? Was it relief? Creed went back towards the door and he leaned on it, "He came at me, I gutted him -- end of story."  
  
The kid didn't answer him in words, but the gasp was all he needed. He empathized with the kid, that only made him smirk, "Yer father had it comin' anyways," he went halfway out the door, "If yer still raw 'bout it, come look fer me -- I'll be waitin'," he slammed the door behind him.  
  
He never felt he could have too many rivals. All these rivals meant only one thing to him -- he'd be on top. He'd be number one out of them all. First, there's the runt -- oh the fun they had together. Then there was the sorry excuse of a feral, Wild Child. He put that feral through hell by ripping out his vocal cords and messing with his lady. Now he'll have little Iggy to play with in the future. Oh how he will have fun torturing that feral also -- if they boy grew up.  
  
He stopped walking midway. If Wolverine ever got his hand on Iggy – they're would be one less feral in the world. Good, but not what he was looking for. No, he wanted Iggy alive.  
  
He walked downstairs to see a very calm Jubilee leaning on the banister.  
  
"We goin' yet Creed," she asked looking at her nails, " 'cause I'll tell Iggy ta call the X-men now if --"  
  
"Didn't I tell ya I'm goin' ta be takin' a shower," he walked through her as he walked towards the downstairs shower.  
  
He barely fit inside the little bathroom, let alone the shower; yet, the caked blood that formed on his hands, back, face, chest and various body parts started to annoy him.  
  
The hot water slid down his body, washing the blood away. Muffled sounds came from above. He perked his ears to hear what it was, and then he realized what his position was -- underneath the room where Iggy recuperated.  
  
Years of being an assassin gave him one trait, able to differentiate words from muffled voices. With his enhanced hearing, this made his job a lot easier.  
  
"Umm...sorry bout that Igster," he heard her apologetic tone. He growled -- what did she expect from him, sympathy?  
  
"It's alright Auntie Lee," He barely heard the boy's reply. He heard some shuffling of blankets and soft footsteps onto the ground, then a collapse.  
  
"Don't move Iggy, ain't goin' ta be good when the X-men get here and --"  
  
"I don't want to go with them, I want to go with you Auntie Lee," where did this boy's bravery come from? Creed contemplated that as a few seconds of water spurting from a lime covered faucet hit his face. He changed the temperature to make it hotter.  
  
"You know I can't take ya, Igster, I'm only goin' ta be like this fer a couple weeks and then what'd Creed do ta ya after --"  
  
"I don't care," he heard sobs emanating from the boy, "then you, me and mama would be together."  
  
The sniffling and sobbing made Creed sick to his stomach. If he were there, he'd slap the boy silly and knock some sense into him.  
  
"I don't see her anymore, Auntie Lee, she left me Auntie Lee, she left me," as the sobs became louder.  
  
"But Creed -- " she weakly tried to argue, but anyone with any sense would know she couldn't. He heard sniffling as he heard the boy get up and go back to the bed.  
  
"He's not so bad, not like father," another sniffle, "at least he gave the meat instead of trying to make me kill a rabbit."  
  
"So you --"  
  
"No Auntie Lee, mama used to bring down table scraps and the like when she was alive -- after that, the rabbits found a way out and I followed to find something else to eat," What kind of rival could this Iggy be? The boy didn't like to kill or eat raw meat. Sure, he'd be able to torture him better, but still he didn't need another weak rival -- like Wild Child.  
  
"Aren't ya mad at Creed for killing yer father -- earlier ya were pretty pissed," anyone with a sense would know she tried grasping for arguments that weren't there. He turned up the heat in his shower as he waited for the reply.  
  
"...No...yes...he told me I can go after him for revenge, but -- "  
  
" -- it ain't what ya want, I getcha kid, yer mama taught ya well," Why did she incite the pacifist side of the boy? "I know Wolvie will help ya get past all that if --"  
  
"He taught you didn't he and look where you are," the boy spoke was what in Creed's mind the exact same second. The shocked gasp from the ghost meant she agreed with both of them.  
  
"I'm sorry Auntie Lee, I didn't mean to upset ya like that, I'm sorry Auntie Lee," the boy started to beg. For shame, he was going a step in the right direction.  
  
"Yer goin' ta the X-men like it or not Igster," her monotone words pierced the boy -- he smelled it, "They'll take care of ya and me n' Creed will do what we gotta ta make me fade -- I hope --"  
  
Silence came from the boy, he smelled anger seep from above, more than when he faced him after he killed his father.  
  
"After I check up on Creed, yer goin' ta call -- please Iggy if not fer me, fer the hopes of yer mother," The smell of anger faded -- replaced with one of solemn defeat. He turned off the shower and dried himself off with a nearby towel. Getting dressed he found a couple negatives if the boy went to the X-men. Now he had to decide between the lesser of two evils.  
  
"Hey Creed, I'm coming in," she gave an impromptu warning before phasing inside the bathroom -- Creed prepared for this moment.  
  
"Just checked up on Iggy, he's set to go, so...what's with the stink eye Creed," from the moment she came in he gave her a look of disapproval.  
  
"Ain't easy decision here, he goes – he spills the beans on our location, and he stays, ya know I'm gonna kill him," he put it out flatly.  
  
With concern in her eyes, he knew she was in a tight spot, "he wouldn't say anythin'," she tried to assure him, but her voice shook with doubt.  
  
Suddenly a violent cough erupted above them. Jubilee floated up as the top half of her body went through the ceiling.  
  
Suddenly, her legs dangling from the ceiling mesmerized him. That prostitute back in Ruth's place did no just to what he saw before him. What a shame that she didn't block because...because...He never got an answer from that couple of days in the cave.  
  
"Creed I told 'im not ta say nothin'," She floated down and looked eye to eye with him -- another opportunity lost.  
  
"Yeah, like I trust the boy," he grumpily got out of the small bathroom as he started his way up the stairs.  
  
"Wait yer not goin' ta kill him!" she appeared defiantly in front of him. Now why would he want to do that to a future rival? He'd have decades of fun torturing the boy. He can't say that out loud to her, she'd through a fit. Wait, he couldn't let her find out about those dead bodies as well.  
  
As he thought of a way for her not to find out, he noticed her hands wave in front of him, "Yer not killin' Iggy Creed, that'd be against the deal."  
  
Now the realization came to him -- he'd use Iggy. He got away from the murders because she attended the frail feral. With the boy always with them, her attention would be split; therefore, he'd get away with more things against 'the deal.'  
  
"Ya left me no choice but ta take 'im Jubilee," he finally answered her as he went right through her.  
  
"Taking the boy with us will be dangerous," another weak argument thrown at him.  
  
"Yeah, but when he tells those X-buddies of yers, they'll come down with reinforcements and I'll never get rid of ya," he turned around and looked at her. She couldn't look at him. Instinctually, he growled, but he didn't know why.  
  
"I know ya want somethin' fer this, and it ain't goin' ta be mass murderin'," she shook her finger at him. He faked being shocked as he leaned against the rail.  
  
Quickly he snapped out of his little production as he gave her a toothy grin. He didn't plan for gaining anything except for rights for future torture, "No matter what happens, I get my claws around the runts neck, none of this 'one kill' crap," he knew this was lenient, even for him -- she'd take it in an instant.  
  
"Alright Creed, but he ain't goin' down that easy," again he growled when she stood up for the runt. Once again she had faith in someone that didn't protect her. He wanted to tell her the horrible things her 'mentor' was doing -- but she'd want to make sure he told the truth; if she ended up looking in his mind again -- it'd probably end in disaster for him and he'd lose control.  
  
"Deal," he sneered out as he banged on the door where Iggy lay, "Boy get ready we're leavin' now," he smelled excitement and shook his head as he headed outside.  
  
A while later, he waited on a rock the rain pouring like a waterfall. He just took a shower too. He sighed as he finally saw Iggy carrying a bag with him.  
  
"Got yer things packed," he asked the eager boy.  
  
"Yes -- I have a hard time hearing you over the noise Uncle 'Creed," The engine was on full blast. Creed smiled as he took the bag from the boy.  
  
"Yah won't be needin' these where we're goin'," he opened the driver side door, threw the bag into the S.U.V and changed gears.  
  
The car blazed forward into the house and on contact -- exploded. The flames built up as the heavens unsuccessfully tried to dowse it.  
  
"All we need is the clothes on our backs on boy -- c'mon we got ground ta make up," he left the stunned kid behind him and after a couple of minutes he heard the boy's following him. 


	38. Welcome Back

Being thoroughly soaked in the rain wasn't good for his skin, but he didn't have a choice. Knowing what it's like in the assassin business, he had to cover his tracks well. The frails that tried to kill him in that restaurant probably took down the license plate number on the S.U.V and since carrying anything would slow him down -- he didn't take anything important except for three thousand dollars out of the ten thousand he stole; that was all that he could hold on him without getting the money drenched.  
  
Walking in the rain, mud slowing down movement and thunder booming every second made him love nature a little bit more. They'd been walking for hours or at least that's how long he thought they'd been walking. From the pace they were going and the number of steps they took, he presumed they were pretty far from where they started and going in the right direction.  
  
For each step he took, the boy had to take two. He knew this and he still went at the grueling pace. Throughout this whole time he heard no complaints just the sloshing around of feet and her support for the boy.  
  
The boy wanted to come and risked his safety in Creed's hands -- who was Creed not to take advantage of it? Hearing a plop and a splash, his grin became bigger.  
  
"Ya decided to come boy, if ya can't keep yer mouth shut then --," he heard footsteps quickly get up as the boy now walked side by side next to Creed. He didn't care and just kept walking in the rain.  
  
"Hey Creed, d'ya mind slowing down, the kid just recovered," she pointed out, but when he glanced to the side -- the boy had determination and grit written all over his face.  
  
"Seems like he doesn't want to stop, ain't that right boy," he announced back to his tormentor. He noticed the boy not saying anything to his defense. Creed just shrugged and went on walking. After a few minutes, the young feral next to him fell down again, this time not getting back up.  
  
"Creed, ya gotta take him somewhere he can rest," her demands made him look back.  
  
"Why should I, I'm not slowin' down cause this brat ain't keepin' up," he knew he'd lose this argument; yet, he couldn't pass an opportunity to gauge the ghosts affections for the boy -- the stronger, the better.  
  
"'Cause ya promised ta take of the kid in exchange fer Wolvie's life -- remember," he saw the rage build within her.  
  
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he mocked putting his hands up defensively, "I promised ta 'take' him with us, not take care of 'im," he crossed his arms and waited. He'd keep this up a little bit longer.  
  
She automatically appeared in front of him, her words about to be demanded from gritted teeth, "I swear to God, if this boy dies, I will --"  
  
Creed just rolled his eyes, walked back to the boy and carried him by the back of the overalls, "ain't got ta be all mad Jubilee," he scanned the area for decent cover, "a caves over there," he pointed out to the hollow point. Practically dragging the boy's body with him, he continued walking.  
  
He gauged Jubilee's compassion for this boy, now he could use it to his advantage. He took some notes of the exchange as they got to the cave.  
  
"Boy welcome to ya knew home fer tonight," he walked inside and when he felt they were a good distance inside, he dropped the boy. Lightning flashed outside, it would be too late to start a fire now.  
  
He sat down against the wall of the cave and noticed Jubilee sitting next to the drenched boy who regained consciousness.  
  
"Iggy can you get up," she asked in a concerned tone as the boy leaned himself against the cave wall opposite of Creed. Trying to catch his breath, the boy looked away from Creed.  
  
"Like I said boy, ya can't keep up we can drop ya off fer the X-Men ta pick ya up -- as long as yer sorry frail mouth won't say nothin'," he let out the truth like claws piercing fresh meat, "ain't goin' ta be easier boy."  
  
He looked at the two options the boy had. If the boy quit and went to the X- Men, he knew the boy wouldn't say anything because a broken boy wouldn't have many words to say. If the boy kept going, he could use the boy to his advantage against the ghost. Either way, he couldn't lose.  
  
The boy took a couple of ragged breaths, "Thank you Uncle 'Tooth," the boy barely breathed out. How could a boy smile through such pain?  
  
Creed couldn't help but laugh, "If ya like this, wait till tomorrow." He kept laughing as he saw the boy keep smiling -- so the boy was serious.  
  
"I can't wait --" the boy breathed out as he sighed, resting his eyes. So this boy didn't break yet, he'd have fun finding it.  
  
Sabretooth grew impatient. Though the rain stopped a while ago and the stars peered out through cloudy sky, he couldn't help but think he could do more. He could travel way more faster if he went solo, but here he was -- stuck in a cave with the still unconscious boy.  
  
At least this made the spirit less loquacious. She hadn't talk to him the whole day -- too engrossed with the boy's trials and tribulation. She gazed upon the shallow breathing form with concerned eyes.  
  
This whole environment reminded him what happened a few days ago. Did she have those eyes with him when he was unconscious? He shook his head; he didn't care.  
  
He suddenly got up, "I'm goin' huntin'," he announced as he brooded off into the night. He heard no reply from the youthful feral or the concerned feral.  
  
He'd been on the hunt for hours. He'd pick up a scent, but couldn't follow it. He'd see some footprints, but couldn't follow it. He wasn't hungry; he just needed to blow off some steam.  
  
Wouldn't it be great if he could just run right now? He wouldn't be dealing with a weak youth that couldn't keep up and a ghostly tormentor who could control his body -- but didn't.  
  
If he ran, she'd find him.  
  
She'd probably be right in front of him, pissed off as ever, take control of his body (then find out about him breaking off the deal) and make his life tremendously uncomfortable once again.  
  
He felt something nibbling on his leg, "What the -- " he exclaimed as he kicked it off as hard as he could. With a thud, the thing bounced off the tree and fell not moving. Drops from the soaked tree fell onto the fallen being. Creed went closer to find out what it was.  
  
A raccoon -- how does raccoon come up to someone, bite it on the leg and not expect to get killed? He smelled the air, it seemed a raccoon wasn't the only thing in the area. The recent smell of rabbits, squirrels and deer were around -- how did he not notice them?  
  
Shrugging, he picked up the thrashing raccoon. He felt the back become broken and graciously ended its life. This should be enough for him and the boy as a snack. He didn't want to feed the boy, but if it calmed down Jubilee -- then it's a small price to pay.  
  
With the meal on hand, he started to walk back to where Jubilee and Iggy where.  
  
He thought of the saying, 'there's more than one way to skin a cat,' and tried to apply it on what he was going to do. After walking for what seemed like forever, he was about five minutes away from the site, he contemplated if he should do the deed outside or inside.  
  
He grinned, why not inside? He could show the boy a way to survive in the wilderness. The horrified look of the boy cleared his mind as he chuckled to himself. If he presented it right, Jubilee wouldn't have anything to say.  
  
She'd say no, he'd say that doing it outside would ruin the meat and she didn't want the boy to go hungry, then she'd reluctantly say yes. Little by little, he'd gain his freedom through the boy.  
  
He reached the site, "Honey, I'm home," he announced with a smile that foreshadowed his little plan. He was greeted with silence -- no surprise there. He entered deeper within the cavern, and found out they weren't there.  
  
He scanned the area again. How could a cripple and a specter supposedly tied to him go away? He dropped the meat and snarled as he leaned against the wall of the cave. They'd return, she needed him to free her and the boy couldn't fend for himself in the wilderness.  
  
They'd return.  
  
He decided to busy himself by skinning the fur off the meat. His adamantium fingernail made a useful tool and soon enough a fluff of hair lay next to him. He skinned the raccoon and now the blood and meat seeped into the dirt floor. Growling to himself, he looked outside to see the sun peering out through the clouds – morning already?  
  
He should just leave. If they were gone, then wasn't his task already done? Couldn't he just go back to the way of life before all this crap happened?  
  
He'd go back to being the ruthless, cold, intelligent killer that terrorized every living being on this Earth. He wouldn't have to take care of that feral boy. He wouldn't have to listen to Jubilee's incessant talking.  
  
He should be happy. He should be jumping up and down with glee, and then run hastily out to kill the next unfortunate person he saw; however, a familiar scent came back to him.  
  
He sighed as he stood up, "Finally," he whispered to himself as he started to exit the cave.  
  
The scent become strong at the exit, he turned to see Iggy standing there like nothing happened, "Where'd ya go kid?" he growled out to the unshaken form.  
  
"What? Ya were worried or somethin'," that voice, it wasn't Iggy. He furrowed his brow as he inspected the boy in front of him. The stance was all wrong -- this stance showed pride and confidence. The smile, Iggy wouldn't smile with more hiding behind it.  
  
"Jubilee," Creed spurted out as the form in front of him rolled his eyes.  
  
"Yeah, Ya know it," the small feral pointed to himself, "surprised."  
  
Creed tried to express his disbelief, only to be cut off by a 'Iggy' rubbing his head, "Can we take this inside?" Jubilee in Iggy's body asked, but didn't wait for a reply as it went inside.  
  
"Yer takin' control of Iggy," he bluntly put it as he followed the possessed youth inside.  
  
"I just wanted to see if I can do it -- and well -- you see the results," the youth leaned against the wall and slid down all the way.  
  
"Thought ya can take over anyone's body," he sat opposite of the other feral.  
  
"Nope, just you -- and now Iggy -- tried way back then," the boy barely breathed out giving the sentiments of Jubilee.  
  
"Why ya doin' it now -- tryin' ta escape or somethin'," once again, Creed put it out bluntly. If this were his ticket to freedom, he'd incite any emotion.  
  
"Aren't we full of questions today," the boy gave a classic Jubilee smile -- which took Creed by surprise, "but didn't I tell ya I tried that before, oh, two weeks ago -- where's yer mind at now Creed?"  
  
He didn't respond right away. He had to soak in the feeling of his chances were once again dashed, "So why take over the boy anyway -- was this yer game the whole time?"  
  
Jubilee's glare looked him straight in the eye, yet another trademark that took him by surprise, "The Igster couldn't stop thrashin' around in his sleep," she took a deep sigh and broke off the glare, "So I took over in order to relieve his pain for a bit."  
  
"Relieve his pain, like Rolaids," Creed joked, as he clearly had no idea what she was talking about. His actions got him a pair of rolling eyes.  
  
"Remember the time where ya flew out of the Viper and nearly ripped yer skin off yer bones," she paused for a bit waiting for a response that wouldn't come, "anyways, when I controlled yer body right after -- I didn't feel yer pain, everythin' was numb -- and I think seein' bone would say yer in pain."  
  
She looked at him, like to make sure he got the next point, "Ya see, before I wondered why I couldn't have any feelings when I was in yer body -- like pain, or taste or whatever right -- I just found out through Iggy today."  
  
Before he could ask why, she rubbed her head and went on with her speech, "Instead of feelin' pain, I get a flood of yer memories..."  
  
So what she said was when she controlled a person she gains memories instead of feeling there pain...He got it...maybe...He did a double-take when his contemplation become interrupted when the spirit started to go away from Iggy's body and right in front of him was the familiar Jubilee specter.  
  
"Give 'im a day ta wake up -- ya take less, but ya know yer like fifty times older," she ordered him. What was he going to do -- say no.  
  
"Walkin' around and eatin' does heal yer body quicker -- if yer were goin' ta ask -- oh ya didn't eat yer dinner yet, might as well do that now," she pointed out to the bloody meat at the other end of the cave.  
  
As he tried to take all this information in he went through the specter to get his meat, "Don't get my hopes up again," he yelled at the specter as she rolled her eyes and looked away. He grinned as he took bite out of the raw flesh. He smiled as he looked at the sleeping boy and the pissed off specter. They were once again his toys that he'd end up controlling.  
  
Welcome Back -- unsaid words that made his grin bigger.  
  
A few bites later, a pile of bones next to him and add a content burp -- that's the ingredients for a good meal. As he sat there looking around the cave, things got back to normal.  
  
He sat silent on one side of the cave, while the specter of Jubilee looked over the sleeping Iggy. He couldn't just waste time like this. He could be walking towards in the middle of nowhere, killing more helpless woodland creatures or...  
  
"So what ya see in the boy's memory?" this snapped the attention of the caring ghost. He could use what he knows about the boy and use it to his advantage.  
  
"Gee when did ya become sensitive?" She sarcastically asked as she gave him a disgusted look. She probably knew his intentions.  
  
"Wound me to tha quick Jubilee," he did his best English accent as he turned to the side and faced the open cave. The sun started to set once again and another day became wasted.  
  
"I saw his mom before she got murdered," she solemnly blurted out. He turned around and faced her.  
  
She looked at the dirt floor before she continued, "She didn't have a chance against a man like that," her gaze still on the ground, but the anger burned with every word.  
  
"She went to see Iggy every night after the father tore off Iggy's fangs and claws," Creed instinctually touched his claws and fangs. She must know about what Creed went through as a child -- that's why she was bringing this up. Yet when he looked at her and heard the inclination in her tone, he knew she wasn't lying.  
  
"She taught her son how to read, write and talk all proper like," she continued spilling her guts to him as she sighed, "Reminded me of my own mom."  
  
A wave of memories flooded him, his short time with his mother, "what did she look like?" he absentmindedly asked. Before he could take back those words, she looked at him like he was a freak for a second, but quickly turned away.  
  
"I don't remember much..." she answered after a long period of silence, "ya know runnin' with the X-Men, Gen X, X-Corps...yadda yadda yadda...ain't not that many people asked me what my mom looked like."  
  
"Hey I'm just tryin' to make an advantage fer me later on," he informed her, showing he didn't care.  
  
She ignored that comment, and he didn't know what that meant. Her silence could mean she caught on and decided on not giving the serial killer the advantage or...  
  
"She had blue eyes, I remember them pleadin' with my father ta stop beatin' me," she shrugged as she looked at the boy, "born a girl -- that's me," she muttered under her breath, but he heard.  
  
"At least ya weren't born a boy with a mug only yer mother could love," he blurted out. What was going on here? He couldn't hold his words in. Great, now he was going to get sympathy from someone dead.  
  
"Ya ain't turn out that bad -- looks wise that is," she hurriedly let out. He didn't detect any sarcasm in her words. Was she actually telling the truth?  
  
Taken back by that comic he tried to compose himself, "Just admit yer feelings of lust fer me already, ya know the tensions there," he winked at her as she rolled her eyes at him.  
  
"Ya ain't no Brad Pitt buddy," she stuck her middle finger out at him without looking at him and he growled and looked away.  
  
"No I'm better," he retorted back.  
  
"No..." a yelp came from the other side, "Please..." He turned quickly to notice the boy started to sweat and thrash around.  
  
"Creed ya gotta wake him up," She looked at him like he'd do what she asked him to. When he worked sole, Creed spent many a nights thrashing about some dreams. Dealing with them made him the strongest feral out there and if Iggy was going to be another one of his rivals -- then the boy should be able to deal with "bad dreams"  
  
"What's the magic word," he played with her mind. He couldn't help but push a button right...  
  
"Now," she yelled at him floating towards him, putting his hands up he got up.  
  
Smiling at the boy, "thank the gods boy fer what ya about to receive," Creed put up his hands and slapped the boy across his face -- automatically waking up Iggy.  
  
"That's what he has to be thankful for," she angrily went to Iggy.  
  
"Yeah, I didn't beat the crap out of him," he shrugged as he went to sit down at his spot.  
  
"Ya all right Igster?" her concern in her voice made him turn away. The boy started sobbing -- in front of him. He had to hold back to knock some sense into the boy again. He stood up and started for the exit.  
  
"Boy yer up and better, we're leavin' now," he announced as he went outside to greet the stars and clouds. 


	39. Halloween Special

Crickets spun unspoken songs within the cloudy sky. The screeches of owls, the howl of wolves and the whistle of the wind added to the melody; one small, shaking figure stood too close to a taller, annoyed one.  
  
"Look boy, get off me," with a swift kick off, the boy let go and landed with a thud, "ya should be scared of me," he barred his teeth to the already shaken boy as he stalked off deeper into the woods.  
  
The rapid breathing and the faster pace meant the boy didn't want to trail behind -- good, they'd make up some ground tonight. He walked deeper into the dense forest to notice fog starting to roll in.  
  
He shrugged as he trudged along deeper into the woods. He felt something small bump into his leg.  
  
"What I tell ya boy --" he started to yell but saw no one was there. In fact, he didn't know where the boy was. He sniffed the air and listened for steps, -- nothing.  
  
"Ya wanna play games boy -- fine," his yell echoed throughout the eerie forest. He huffed as he walked along the less traveled path.  
  
A shriek traveled throughout the forest. Creed turned around and sighed -- the boy lagged too far behind and probably got scared of his own shadow. Jubilee would probably get him to retrieve the boy. Seeing no choice in the matter he walked towards the shriek.  
  
He didn't walk for long to see the boy hyperventilating and Jubilee trying to calm the kid down. She just looked at him and pointed to the trees. He looked up to see something tangled up in the tree. He had to wince to see it, a body. He sniffed deeply to smell death and decay. Nothing new to him, he walked over to the shaken boy.  
  
"First times are always killer," he grinned at the feral boy as he walked passed him, "yer gonna get used ta it -- trust me," crushing the leaves before him.  
  
"Billy," he heard a young woman yell off in the distance. He stopped as he looked back. The boy and Jubilee turned their heads to the sound of the voice.  
  
Out of the fog, a young woman appeared barely wearing clothes deemed decent, "Billy -- " she stopped midway when she saw Creed standing there. Her breath quickened as she looked up in the trees. She gave a blood- curling scream as she started to run with outstretched arms.  
  
Creed just sighed as he looked behind him, "C'mon boy, let's get out of this freak show," the shaken boy stood up as he followed Creed. All Creed wanted to do was go on with what he had on his agenda for the past couple of weeks: get rid of the boy and Jubilee, and get back to killing -- was that so hard to ask. A little bit of adrenaline flowed through his body when the girl feared him -- but he knew it would be fleeting to do something about it when spoilsport watched him  
  
Walking in the fog, he took each step to point out his annoyance. Maybe they should've traveled in the morning, but he didn't waste time. He looked forward to see the woman who screamed at him earlier trip and fall on -- nothing.  
  
He tried to walk past her, minding his own business -- when she started squirming towards him. Tears appeared in her eyes as she pleaded with her life. He growled at her as once again tried to walk past her. That's when he heard her heart stop.  
  
He heard a gasp behind him, he groaned -- the boy saw it.  
  
"Uncle 'Tooth is she dead," the boy barely sputtered the words. Turning, he saw the boy turn a shade of white that rivaled the full moon tonight.  
  
"Yeah, I didn't kill her Jubilee, ya saw that right," she just nodded annoyingly as he got an agreement from the specter. If he didn't know better, she was trying to find a reason to be pissed off at him; however, he couldn't be concerned with that and looked at the situation at hand. So far he saw one person die of fright and another dead on a tree. In a regular night, he'd call it slow, but that's something he only could strive for now.  
  
"Peggy," Oh no, not again, "Peggy -- " again out of the fog a girl who wore less than the one that died next to him appeared. She covered her hand over her mouth as she screamed from the top of her lungs in fear and 'ran' away from him.  
  
He looked behind him to see the boy positively spooked; yet, when he looked over to Jubilee, she rolled her eyes as she started to float towards him.  
  
"Can't ya not scare the locals here," she whispered to him. He didn't try to; maybe because he had blood caked on his face and his arms. He didn't see a need to wash up since it'd be the three of them.  
  
"Shaddup, Jubilee," he yelled at the spirit who turned her back on him and went on trying to comfort the boy, "we're movin' on boy -- or would ya like ta stay here with yer friends," he saw the boy frantically move towards the already moving Creed.  
  
He only walked a few steps when he heard someone trying to start an engine. A prime car ready to be stolen by him to make this annoying trip go by faster, what an opportunity. He quickened his pace towards the sound of the engine.  
  
When he got over a hill, he looked down to see a hysterical woman inside a new car.  
  
"Wait here, Iggy," he heard Jubilee ask the boy as he felt her presence next to him.  
  
Smiling, he pointed to the car, "Five bucks says she stalls for a couple more minutes," he saw her scoff at the proposal, and he couldn't help but chuckle about the situation.  
  
The woman in the car tried started the car again and ended up hitting the wheel with her hands. Even from the distance he was, he heard her curse and press too hard on the pedal. He saw her make eye contact with him, and he winked at her. Apparently, she didn't like that as she redoubled her efforts, wailing in distress as if she was about to die.  
  
Creed couldn't help but laugh at the situation. This seemed like a bad plot twist from a movie. Apparently, his laugh didn't go so well with the woman in the car as she started to hit the wheel with one hand and turn the key with the other.  
  
He couldn't stop laughing for a couple of minutes, looking around he saw Jubilee trying to comfort the frightened boy. His laughter died down when he saw the woman trying the same thing again and again. Now he started to get irritated. Couldn't the woman calm down enough to know that the car wasn't working? Even he knew that from a distance.  
  
Her wails continued for a while as he decided standing for this would waste too much energy. Sitting down he sighed to see the woman in so much fear. The adrenaline rush of doing that made him feel somewhat powerful, but that was in the beginning.  
  
He felt the cool wind blow up against the front of his face. Her screaming voice, panicked kicks to the pedal, and twisting of keys in sockets accompanied the wind. This only made him angry as he growled and started to go down the slope of the hill. If anything, he could calm the girl down, steal her car and get out of this place.  
  
This didn't bode well with the driver of the car as she punched the wheel with keys in hand -- only to let the airbag go out and punch her hand to her face. He heard a crack of bones as he knew that her neck snapped from whiplash. Adding insult to injury, he looked closer inside the car, the woman had keys impaled in her head. He automatically turned around to see Jubilee looking down at him.  
  
"I didn't do it," he roared at the specter, as she appeared right next to him.  
  
"Can ya at least get rid of the body so the Igster won't have ta deal with another death tonight," she asked as she disappeared from his view.  
  
He growled all the way down as he opened the door of the driver side, took the keys out of the skull of the woman, threw the body out like a rag doll, and tore off what was left of the air bag. Looking around inside, this car looked better inside than outside -- too bad it didn't work.  
  
"C'mon, we're wastin' time here," he announced to his obligations as he growled a went inside the car. He put in the first key and turned. The engine roared proudly as he shrugged.  
  
He heard the back door open as the youthful feral slid inside. He turned on the radio to find a station playing some crappy songs. He hit the radio and that made it turn off. Great, he needed another source of entertainment right now. He looked back to see the boy visibly shaking. Now how could he rub it in?  
  
"Ain't no ones fault 'bout their deaths but their own," he turned and started driving the heavily brushed path, "Fear makes humans stupid," rubbing in Iggy's fear and subtly calling the boy stupid. With a grin on his face, he looked at the rear view mirror as his grin slowly drooped.  
  
A man, all in black, with red eyes, and a smile that rivaled his own stood next to the carcass of the woman that tried to start the car. The man stood almost as tall as Iggy when he mouthed something to Creed -- thank you.  
  
He looked back at Iggy, whose pail face and shaking body focused only at Jubilee's words. When he looked back at the rear view mirror -- the body and the carcass vanished. 


	40. Bounty

Driving for a couple of hours already, Creed eyelids grew heavy. He knew this feeling of wasted adrenaline would do this to him. Trying to stifle a yawn, he looked up to the mirror. The boy wasn't as pale like a couple of hours ago, but the boy periodically shook.  
  
Needless to say, the boy didn't get to sleep the whole night either.  
  
Next to him, a confused specter periodically checked upon the small boy. Her "comforting" words ceased to appease the boy when all he only replied with a nod and a monotone okay.  
  
She let out a bored sigh as he saw her float out of her seat and sat next to the boy. She gave him a smile before she phased to the trunk of the car.  
  
"Auntie Lee," the boy gave out frantic words as she appeared to the boy once again.  
  
"I just went ta check what's in the trunk Igster," she tried to comfort the boy. The boy blushed as he looked at his feet.  
  
What a touching moment, he'd have to break that up soon, "Anythin' good in there," he yelled to the back.  
  
"Some suitcases filled with clothes, men and woman," she floated over to the passenger seat, "and with you being a reject fer the biker in the village people, ya might consider checkin' those out sometime soon."  
  
Growling, he pulled over to the side of the road as the morning started to bleed into view. He got out of the car, slamming the door as he grumpily walked towards the trunk. He tried opening it, but there seemed to be some resistance. Snarling, he ripped the trunk door open and saw a couple of suitcases in the back.  
  
Ripping one open, he found very lacy lingerie -- like those girls couldn't wear any less, "Hey Jubilee, too bad ya can't fit inta these," he pulled up a bra to show to her.  
  
"Fit into what --," she phased into view from the truck through the backseats. She promptly gave him two middle fingers as she phased back inside. Creed just burst out in cynical laughter as he moved that bag aside and went to the next one.  
  
Ripping the zippers out of their sockets he found a set of clothes that were men, but it didn't look like it fit him. He picked up a tee, size medium. If anything, the shirt would be tight on him. A tight tee on with tight leather pants on -- he shuddered thinking about the possibilities.  
  
Throwing that useless bag aside he opened the last bag and hoped there was something better in this one. Ripping it open, he suddenly furrowed his brow.  
  
The clothes where definitely male oriented, but it was small -- almost like child sized. He remembered the last thing he saw before he stole this car -- a man a size of a child with red eyes peering at him and thanking him.  
  
"Hey Creed ya done -- oh these would look cool on the Igster," the ghost popped up next to him next to him and as quickly popped away.  
  
Shaking those memories off, he looked through the set of clothes shown before him. These clothes would make the boy better looking than him, a look a like biker reject from the "Village People" he couldn't have that. He popped out his claws and prepared to rip the clothes to shreds when he something entered the olfactory sense.  
  
He smelled food cooking over a grill. He sniffed again he pinpointed what type -- meat. So a restaurant started to cook this early in the morning. He confirmed the money inside his pocket.  
  
Having three thousand dollars to spend and not doing so is a travesty. He heard the timid opening of a door as just as timid footsteps approached a good distance where Creed stood. Jubilee suddenly appeared in between them.  
  
"Hey Igster ya wanna check out these digs er what?" she encouraged the boy, but he didn't seemed to enthused about the idea. Infuriated at how long the boy to approach the suitcase he reached in and grabbed some stuff.  
  
"Here put these on, we gotta go," he sniffed the air. Mixed in with the burning flesh of goodness was a scent that he knew too well. He made this scent appear when he entered anywhere to kill someone.  
  
He pulled out a pair of underwear and shot it like a rubber band gun at the already overwhelmed boy, "We can't buy stuff smellin' like piss now can we."  
  
That sentence made Jubilee's eyes beam, "shopping," she whispered with anticipation.  
  
"Ya better help the boy," he suggested as he went to the side of the road and unzipped his pants, "He better be done when I'm done," he yelled out as he started to piss.  
  
"Don't look Igster, c'mon ya got a ex-mallrat helpin' ya out, now --" with a flurry of instructions he heard the changing of clothes. He took this opportunity to whistle a merry jig as his body continued to let out unnecessary waste. He ended his whistling, and with a good shake and zip he turned around.  
  
"Tada," Jubilee made a pose to announce the boy. He wore a cap with the words "hooters" across it. No drooping ears, so the hat probably hid the boy's ears. Instead of the dopey overalls, the boy wore a shirt with the same lettering as the cap. The shorts went down to the boy's ankles as a pair of Nikes adorned the boy's feet.  
  
"Turn Igster," the boy slowly did what he was asked. The first thing Creed noticed was the lack of that Labrador looking tail -- must've been covered up in the pants.  
  
"C'mon boy," he went over to the trunk and slammed it down. The trunk slowly came up. He did it again with the same result. He let loose an angry growl as he tore off the trunk lid and threw it to the side of the road.  
  
Breathing deeply, he noticed the boy's eyes became big as he quickly walked to the back seat door, quickly opening it, and closed the door.  
  
"Real nice Creed," she glared at him and floated into the car.  
  
"Thanks," he gave out a smile and proudly walked to the driver seat, got into the already on car and followed the scent of cooking meat.

------------------------------------------------------ 

"Uncle 'Tooth, the lady looked at me weird," the boy approached the car with keys in hand. As he heard the footsteps to the driver seat, he put his seat in the upright position.  
  
"Ya interrupted my nap fer that boy," he swiped the keys from the boy through the window, "go inside and distract her now," he ordered the boy. As told, the boy hurriedly went inside the diner.  
  
Grasping the keys in his hands, he headed the way towards the outdoor bathrooms. He growled when he thought of what he was degraded to.  
  
If he was by himself, he would rip into the restaurant, eat all its food and leave with giving a courteous tip -- blowing it up sky high; yet, he didn't have that luxury now.  
  
Included with the other bounties on his head from the government and various people he pissed off, the runt put a ten million dollar bounty on him -- alive. Assassins come in many shape and form, even out here in... He'd have to ask later on.  
  
Reaching the doorknob to the male bathroom, he turned the key and opened the door. The dank smell and the complete darkness made him cringe a little. As he flicked on the light switch he heard the scurrying of hundreds of little insect legs -- damn roaches.  
  
He went over to the sink and had a hard look into the mirror. If he went in the diner like this, he'd have some questionable looks come his way. He turned on the faucet, which made some crunching noises before it dispensed brown water -- he'd wait a while.  
  
The boy better have gotten his order right, steak medium rare and eggs sunny side up. He noticed the water turned into a clear substance. Reluctantly he put his hands underneath, seeing the caked blood wash off. He cupped his hands and a little pool of water formed in them. He splashed it on his face and the blood on it was no more.  
  
He spat out the most garbage tasting water ever as he reached for a napkin to wipe him off. He looked hard into the mirror once again. Biker duds on him gave him an appearance as one -- nothing else.  
  
Walking out of the bathroom he made his way to the entrance, the scent of meat wafting in the air. Opening the door he heard a gentle ring. Eyes flashed on him for a second and then went back to what they were doing. Looking around he saw the boy and Jubilee sitting down on the same bench on the booth talking about something. Growling, he walked over to them.  
  
"Havin' fun there," he intimated the boy to be quiet as Jubilee glared at him. The same routine over and over that he never got tired of, "Ya did order my stuff boy."  
  
Iggy nodded solemnly as Jubilee was about to pipe up to the boy's defense. Creed decided the boy and Jubilee had too much fun talking to each other -- now it was his turn, "Both of ya talkin' behind my back?" he asked as a young, blonde waitress butted in before he got a reply.  
  
"Here you go sir, sirloins medium rare with sunny side up," she put down the plate -- he was pleased, "and for the boy," she put down the bowl and he didn't have to hear it to know what it was, he smelled that filth -- Sugarbombs.  
  
"Everything fine sir," she asked putting up her pad and pencil. He waved her off as he took a bite of the meat. He stared at the piece of waitress behind wiggling away from him -- nice. He heard a small thanks from the boy directed Jubilee as he saw the boy shovel a mouthful in.  
  
"Ya didn't answer my question boy," the boy swallowed hard as the boy's mouth tried to open.  
  
"I'll field this one, ya see --" Jubilee tried to stand up for Iggy, but he just couldn't have that.  
  
"Let the boy answer," he snarled softly to Jubilee. He wanted the boy to answer for many reasons: to intimidate the boy even more, to sense if the boy told the truth and to see if the boy had a voice anymore.  
  
"What I saw when Auntie Lee took over," the boy answered barely above a whisper and not giving eye contact. Creed almost forgot that day, but it did happen -- when Jubilee found out that she could take over the boy. So the boy had the same experience he had when she took over his body.  
  
He took another bite of the meat, "Go on," he ordered with a full mouth.  
  
"I saw you choking Auntie Lee, Uncle 'Tooth," he let out so quickly that he almost didn't hear it -- yet conversations stopped and eyes where on them.  
  
He continued eating, "Yah, so..."

He took another bite of the meat, eyes still on him -- he needed to get the attention away from him, "that was a long time ago," he confirmed with a whisper loud enough for everyone to hear. He heard conversations starting up again so he took another bite of the medium rare meat.  
  
He noticed the boy stir his spoon into the mush of milk and Sugarbombs. He felt the uneasiness the boy had as the boy forced a spoonful down his throat. He smiled when he got a whiff at the boy's nervousness. He knows what he had to do.  
  
"Yeah, ol' Auntie Lee and me first fought when she was a few years older than ya," he bit another chunk out of the meat as the boy continued to stir the mush with the spoon. So he didn't gain his attention yet.  
  
"She hung out with the runt, so I wanted to rip her a new stomach," with a flash, the meat was cut down in half as he took a bite of the steak. The boy looked up with open eyes now. Now gaining the full attention he deserved.  
  
"The runt led her," he pointed to the apparition, but she just pretended to ignore him by putting her finger in her ears and sang out of tune. Creed, in turn, ignored her, "ta be 'good' and have 'honor' and all that crap."  
  
Creed stabbed the meat with the fork he didn't use, "Now I know seein' yer friend right there bein' strangled by me ain't puttin' me in a pretty light, but she got it comin'," he bit into the meat and the fork.  
  
Startled, the boy looked away. Even though Creed didn't say what anything directly to the boy, he knew the message came loud and clear -- stay in your place or feel the consequences.  
  
"Yeah like ya don't get what's comin' ta ya Creed," she pointed at him. Creed stopped eating as the hair on the back of his neck started to stand on end.  
  
She floated over to him got close to his ear, "Ya know I don't appreciate the way ya puttin' fear into the boy -- ya do that anymore, I'll make sure ya comply with the winter clothing line this year."  
  
He growled softly, trying not to make a scene, "Ain't ya want the boy gone - just puttin' him in his place," he gave the boy a wink as he took another bite out of his meat.  
  
"I'm sorry..." the boy started to whimper out. This got his attention; he huffed as a glint of a smirk came out.  
  
"Ya ready to give boy," a part of him didn't want the boy to go. The whole torturing thing focused him and Jubilee away from each other and towards the boy; yet, he liked to get rid of both soon. Since speed outweighed fun, he had no choice.  
  
"I'm sorry..." the boy repeated. Iggy's gaze stuck to the mush.  
  
"Hey, Igster are you okay," she went over to float and tried to comfort the boy.  
  
"I'm sorry..." the boy repeated. Creed started to get annoyed.  
  
He actually looked straight at the boy. The glaze over the boy's eyes -- Iggy wasn't here. When Creed was this young, he didn't remember going this far. What the heck did the father put him through?  
  
"I'm sorry..." the boy repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. Tears welling up in the young feral's eyes. Suddenly, the boys face fell into the mush in the bowl.  
  
Creed instinctually lifted the boy's head out. He growled at the boy's drama. Now they had to go, the attention now on them -- he didn't even get a chance to finish his eggs.  
  
"He ain't strong folks," he tried to calm the situation down. Then he noticed the eyes weren't on them. Was his explanation easily accepted? Carrying the boy (making sure no one found out the boy was a mutant) he started to quickly go to the exit.  
  
The clank of chains crashed loudly on metal. He looked out side and saw something he didn't need right now. Many women in biker gear beating up his car. With another clank and crash, the Camry didn't look like a car anymore.  
  
"Sabretooth, I know you're in there -- come out quietly or else," the blatant bravado of a woman in an eye patch and chains meant only one thing -- some broads are going to get it today.

Creed looked at his surroundings, about seven women dressed in baggy clothes, but all wore the same leather tops. Each woman held a different weapon, but the one holding the chains seemed to be the leader.  
  
"Didn't know the great assassin to carry a kid," the eye patched girl pointed out. He snarled at her confidence.  
  
"Hostage," he quickly thought, "ya gonna to let me pass or ya want the boy to die."  
  
He liked the way he leader reacted. Wiping a cocky smirk off the broads face made him smirk a little. They wouldn't get out of this situation easy -- he hoped.  
  
She looked over to one of the ladies in the back and nodded. He didn't like this at all. He felt his hold on the boy weakening as in a flash the boy flew midair. He heard screams behind him in the diner as things became worse. The still unconscious Iggy flew over to the broad in the back.  
  
"Going as low to make a boy a hostage -- deplorable," she yelled angrily as she started to swing the chain. Creed could take on any, if not all of them, right now, but why not extend the fun?  
  
Charging at the eye patch broad, he swiped down and found his arms became entangled in the chains. He then felt a swift kick to the face, followed by the chains unwrapping around his arm and hitting on his face. The impact would've killed a normal man.  
  
"Ready to give up yet," she asked while she forced the chain out, making it stiff. So the broad could make the chain like a sword, he'd have to look out for that.  
  
"Bring it!" he taunted her as he waited for her turn to charge. Foolishly enough she charged trying to stab him, he easily dodged and grabbed and yanked the chain away from the woman.  
  
To his surprise, the woman jumped in the air over him, "Disperse," he heard her yell as the chains fell from his hands in pieces, "Come," she barked another order as the chains came to her -- through his stomach.  
  
Clutching the newly made wound, he coughed up blood.  
  
"Ten million dollars," she spat to the ground, "Bringing you to justice is its own reward," she lectured him. He didn't need to hear this, but he did hear something stirring the way over by where Iggy was being hold. His moans caught his opponent off guard.  
  
He ran at full speed, spearing his opponent and the woman behind her. They both lay unconscious -- two down, five to go.  
  
"Bastard," another woman yelled out as she produced a machine gun from her pocket. He huffed as he walked forward, bullets going into him. He had enough speed to grab the machine gun and swiped her and the frightened girl next to her -- four down, three to go.  
  
The other two girls looked at each other as they screamed and started to run.  
  
"Is this all you got?" he screamed at the fallen bodies lying around, "rookies," he started to stalk off as he felt an invisible force push him to his car, keeping him there. He forgot about that dumb telekinetic bitch.  
  
"Now I'll get the reward," he felt her push him harder into the car. Weak, the first word that came to his mind, dealing with stronger minds like Chuck and Jean, this portrayal of power seemed like a disgrace. He pushed forward, knowing her limit would come.  
  
He saw her struggle against his might, "Frail, I'll tell ya this once -- ain't no woman goin' ta get me," he pushed a little bit harder as his fist connected with her face -- causing her to fly far and land with full force onto the ground.  
  
He surveyed his damage he created. This was more like it! He looked around; he knew he was missing something.  
  
"Creed, are we goin' or what?" a boyish yell came from the other side. He turned to see the boy waving at him and smiling. This only meant one thing -- Jubilee (once again) took over Iggy's body.  
  
Creed growled and ran over to where Iggy stood, "I got my fill fer today," he ran past the boy as he heard the boy coming quickly behind him.  
  
"Once again, another car wrecked and we have to run," Jubilee in the boy's body sighed as they ran side by side.  
  
Creed only grinned, "at least I got a free meal out of this."


	41. Passing the Torch

Normally, walking for hours wouldn't be a problem with him; yet something felt off with him. The jubilant possessed boy went forward with a whistle, as he had to sit down on a rock.  
  
"Somethin' wrong Creed," the small boy turned his head and gave him a toothy grin, "was those ladies too tough fer ya," he tried to swipe at the boy, but fell to the ground. The pain in his stomach started to erupt out of nowhere, "Ya all right Creed," Concern real in the kid's voice. Creed knew what was wrong with him. He felt the stirring in his stomach earlier. Now how to use that to his advantage?  
  
He grunted in pain as he noticed the boy getting closer to him. He knew that the boy would smell the blood, but would Jubilee be able to utilize it. Looking at the possessed face, the answer would be yes. Clawing deeper inside, he overplayed the pain verbally. Above the smell of his own blood was fear.  
  
After a few minutes of fishing he found it, he had to fish around some more to feel if there were any more. Finding nothing, he commenced his plan -- even though it caused him some discomfort.  
  
Pulling his claw out slowly, letting the blood gurgle and spurt out. The twisted lip of the possessed boy gave almost made him bust out in laughter, but he only gave a liquid filled laughter. Spitting out some blood, he 'snarled' in pain as he lifted out the item inside a stomach -- a metal chain piece.  
  
The look on the possessed boy's face and the unwarranted yelp was enough on that whole ordeal worthwhile. He pointed and laughed at the Jubilee-in-body Iggy, while coughing blood.  
  
"Ya gettin' soft Jubilee, yer not the icicle that ya been playin' the last couple of weeks," he got her on another weak moment -- he thought he found his second calling. The boys' middle finger rewarded his effort.  
  
"Look, at least ya did that trick with me instead of the Igster," the boy pointed out as it started to walk away.  
  
"It would've been better -- huh," he noticed the piece of metal he tore out of his stomach starting to quiver. With great speed it levitated and started going to the direction -- crap.  
  
Running towards the boy, he pushed it to the ground along with him. Within a second, the metal piece flew past them as it only took a second for it to be out of sight.  
  
"Ain't need yer help," the boy tried to push the heavier Creed off. Creed let up as he brushed himself off.  
  
"Aww, no brownie points fer me today," he fake pouted as he turned serious suddenly, "and that ain't help, its comfort -- I'm not goin' ta carry the boy again," he announced as he started to walk past it, he heard the familiar footsteps catch up.  
  
Sure this whole possessed body thing started out to be cool, but he liked to separate the two. The boy having the personality of a former mall-rat that once was his enemy started to grate on his nerve. After a couple hours of silence, the sun started to set as they traveled a good amount today. Like the chain that buried and twisted within his stomach, something started to bother him.  
  
"Was it yer plan to take over that boys' body or are ya goin' ta let him out of his shell?" he asked sarcastically as he stopped in a middle of a nicely brushed area.  
  
"If ya didn't scare the crap out of 'im then maybe –,"  
  
"Then what, you'd make him a bigger wuss than he already is," he brought up he valid point, and for the first time, he heard a growl come out of the boy – even though it was Jubilee.  
  
"I'll let 'im free tonight, ya can't do that much damage when yer sleepin'," she gave away her game plan.  
  
"Sure Jubilee, whatever ya say," another sarcastic remark compounded the situation, he felt frustration build up within the body.  
  
"Good," Jubilee in the boy's body retorted as Creed's stomach started to growl, "Look, why don't we just set camp here and eat somethin' -- then go."  
  
With his stomach now making decisions for him, he growled as he stalked off in the direction he smelled fresh prey. He sniffed the air again, it'd be a cold one tonight, "Get the wood, meet up back here got that," he barked orders.  
  
"I don't know how to start a fire," he heard it pipe up. He growled as Jubilee-in-Iggy's body continued, "Ya know I relied on my paffs ta start one."  
  
"Logan did teach ya crap didn't he."  
  
"Hey –"It started to stamp its feet and pout – that didn't look right on the boy.  
  
"Just get dry wood and be here in five minutes or the boy doesn't it, got it."  
  
"Yah whatev."  
  
With that thrilling conversation, they went to do their own tasks.

On Creed's behalf, getting food for himself was no problem at all, except he wasn't alone. Growling, he carried a couple of dead carcass of a couple of rodents -- they're easier to kill when the mother's gone.  
  
Smirking, it only took him a few minutes to kill them. The girl better be ready with that wood -- or else. Hearing his stomach growl, he quickened his pace towards the place they all supposed to meet.  
  
The cold autumn air had a certain smell in it when Creed walked started to go in the right direction. He looked up and saw black smoke rising. His smirk became bigger, so Jubilee found out how to make a fire after all.  
  
Only taking a couple of minutes to get to the destination, he saw the boy cradling his knees near the fire. Obviously, Jubilee lied to him just so she didn't have to do some work -- he'd teach her.  
  
"Oh hey Creed, rodents -- sounds good," her voice crept up behind him as she appeared in front of him. Things became clear to him now.  
  
"Let me guess, the boy made that," he pointed to the fire that blazed the night sky, "what afraid of actual work."  
  
"I told ya, I'm not into this Boy Scout stuff -- Iggy knew how ta do it," she joked but her face held another feeling, "he just did it without askin' -- he hasn't said a word since."  
  
The boy was weak, what do you expect out of him? Creed stalked towards the warmth of the fire. He threw a rodent at the boy, "Dinner," he announced as he took a bite out of the raw flesh.  
  
The boy didn't move, still the in the same position. He didn't smell any emotion from him. That'd change soon.  
  
"What rat too good fer ya kid," he glared at the boy. He knew the boy didn't have any problems eating raw flesh -- still no scent of fear.  
  
The boy got out of his trance by lifting up his head. Creed took notice as the boy picked up the rodent and started to eat it, "Thank you, Uncle 'Tooth," the boy took another bit with a glaze over his eyes.  
  
Creed snarled and took another bite, "what's that look fer boy."  
  
The boy automatically turned away, dropping his dinner, "Sorry Uncle 'Tooth." Creed once again snarled in displeasure. He didn't smell any emotion from the boy, yet he saw the glaze in his eyes -- ones without souls. He should be proud of his handiwork.  
  
The smirk still on his face meant that he must've enjoyed the boy's suffering on some level, but this nagging feeling in the back of his mind that he never felt in a long time showed up.  
  
"Boy --" he saw the boy's head turn. He felt the nagging part flare up when he looked into the eyes of the apathetic.  
  
"Yes Uncle 'Tooth," the boy monotone voice struck a nerve within Creed.  
  
"Get some sleep," he ordered the boy without a second thought. On one hand, seeing the boy turn cold is entertaining, but on the other hand...  
  
"Ya better wake up before me or I'll leave behind," he turned to his side as he closed his eyes.  
  
"Yes Uncle 'Tooth," the boy replied barely above a whisper. Creed just growled as the weight on his eyes started to get heavier. He let go and started to sleep.

----------------------------------------------------

_He knew the darkness well. For a second he thought that Jubilee had taken over his mind again, but this was different. The freezing point of this place would chill any normal frail's bones – but for him – this was an everyday occurrence.__  
  
__"Yes sir," a young innocent voice replied. Creed knew this voice -- it was his; yet, the time frame seemed fuzzy. The picture became focused when he saw his younger self go forward into the darkness.__  
  
__"You've been showing some promise Victor," that voice, so familiar yet he couldn't place a name on it.__  
  
__"Thank you sir," he heard his youthful voice reply as his youthful form smiled. He didn't know he could smile like that -- has it been that long, "What task would you like me to do today sir."__  
  
__"Today, is your last lesson Victor -- today will be your first kill..." The voice trailed onward before the owners eyes met the younger Sabretooth._

_"I know ya killed before, but I'm going to teach ya the right way of doing it," the body that came along with that voice became clearer. Creed recognized it and he didn't know how to react.__  
  
__"I've done my research on ya, you've killed before -- out of rage and out of obligation, but this time it's different," Creed remembered at the time he didn't know what 'obligation' meant. __  
  
__The area began to get clearer as well. He remembered the warmth in the sun and butterflies stirring around. He saw his youthful form smile when the older man tried telling him what's going on -- what stupid ignorance.__  
  
__"Are ya paying attention, or do I have to repeat myself," the older man turned around and slapped the younger Creed across the face.__  
  
__"Sorry sir," the younger Creed clutched his face feigning pain. Even in his youth, he survived some crippling injuries, like being slashed across the face and didn't wince; yet, why feel now?__  
  
__"Now, why are we here," the older man asked and he knew if he answered wrong he'd get hit again.__  
  
__"Our task for today, kill the daughter of the porno king, Duece Harlett," he answered wearily and as expected he got a punch to the gut, followed by the older man wagging his finger at him.__  
  
__"You forgot the part about no witnesses," the older men whispered through clenched teeth, "we're almost there," following the paved roads they discussed nothing more. The older man was in front, while youthful Creed stayed in the back.__  
  
__In his mind seeing all this Creed, grew angry. His youthful form took too much crap from this guy. Then came to view something he knew he saw before but couldn't put his hands on. The hotel stood tall and firm, like many other hotels he'd seen all over the world -- yet this one -- this one had a significant meaning to him. This didn't make sense, he never remembered this memory before, why start now.__  
  
__The two of them entered the lobby and headed straight to the elevator. Once inside, the older man pressed a button and then gave the younger Creed a gun with a silencer on it.__  
  
__"This is the real thing, remember what we have to do," the older man ordered. Was this what so significant? The first time he used a gun. He didn't like them that much, but...__  
  
__The elevator chimed at thirty-eight, both of them got out. The walked casually by a bell hop as a second later he older man killed him by cracking his neck. He nodded to the younger Creed. The youthful form dragged the body to the ice vending machine and dispensed with the body. Then within seconds, he caught up with the older man.__  
  
__They stopped at a door, "Two fifty six," the older man whispered, "we're here," he gently rapped on the door, "room service."__  
  
__They heard giggles from inside the room. Watching this, Creed couldn't wait to see the killing spree that was about to ensue.__  
  
__The door swung open, as a guy in only his boxers appeared "Finally," the older man shot the man in between the eyes.__  
  
__"Dear what's going on," the heard a woman's voice ask as the two men barged into the room, closing the door quietly behind him and before the woman could scream, the older man shot her down.__  
  
__This was kind of boring -- his youthful incarnation did nothing but just stand there and look stupid.__  
  
__"Now we wait," the man got to a chair and sat down, "no use pacing around now," the older man cocked his gun and put it down. He got something within his trench coat, a cigar, and started smoking it.__  
  
__The younger man was offered one, but refused. Why was his younger self so weak? From what he did remember, he killed from birth till now -- with no remorse or no regret. He hated this vision, but he couldn't wake up.__  
  
__"Mommy, there's a strange man in the ice room," the door started to creek a little, walked in a girl holding a bucket. She saw the bleeding man on the floor. The horrified look on her face made the older man smile, while the younger one half grin.__  
  
__"It's your turn," the older man puffed the cigar. Shoot, shoot -- Creed could only say in his mind when he saw the younger version of himself put up the gun to the shaking girl.__  
  
__The younger form tried to steady his hand, but lowered it in a second.__  
  
__"What are ya doing," the older man angrily said, but didn't get up to confront the naive youth.__  
  
__"Her fear isn't like the ones I killed before sir, she's -- "__  
  
__"Going all soft now are we, this wasn't what you begged me to make you do," If Creed had a face in this dream, he'd be furrowing right now. He never remembered begging anything from anyone, "to be what you want to be, you have to cast away all doubt and take the shot."__  
  
__The younger Creed shook his head as he started to back away from the older man.__  
  
__"So this is what I get for taking in such a weak boy --" shots were fired, the older man lay bleeding in the chair.__  
  
__"I want to be stronger, so no one can hurt me anymore" the voice echoed in his mind as the younger Creed then turned to the littler girl, the tears in her eyes had no effect on the young feral.__  
  
__"I want to be stronger, so no one can hurt me anymore" once again the voices echoed in his mind the younger feral pointed the gun at the girl...__  
  
__"I want to be... _

----------------------------------------------------

"...Stronger Auntie Lee," his ears heard a familiar voice call out. Creed, too shocked to move, listened. He didn't know that he once had doubts, had feelings.  
  
In the dream, he found the reason for him killing. Sure, he could hide it under the feral exterior -- that was partially why he killed -- but his younger voice echoed in his mind. His unconscious creed he didn't want to admit. The mantra kept going like a broken record player.  
  
He wanted to be stronger, so no one can hurt him anymore. 

"Why Igster, I think yer perfect the way ya are," the lady specter replied. Didn't she see the faults in the boy? First off, he slowed him down from getting to finding any cure to this disease she plagued him with. Second, the boy showed no promise of being a fighter. The list could go on in Creed's mind.  
  
"No I'm not," the boy replied, voicing the sentiment that Creed couldn't say himself, "I couldn't protect mommy and Uncle 'Tooth treats me --"  
  
"First off, ya stayed in there and tried yer best with yer mom," she tried to comfort him, "second...second," her inability to find anything nice to say made him smirk a little.  
  
"Auntie Lee...Auntie Lee is something wrong," the boy asked her. He only smirked, did that mean his cover was blown?  
  
"Well, err...uh --"  
  
"So your eager to get rid of me as well," the boy questioned. Sadness suddenly came to his senses, could this boy be anymore pathetic.  
  
"No, No Igster its just that, uh, ya don't seem ta be enjoyin' yer stay," she stuttered out. This was her true response he could sense it.  
  
The boy started to laugh a little then suddenly turned into muffled cries, "Hey Igster are ya alright?" she worriedly asked, but the boy continued to cry. Annoyed, Creed was bout to get up and slap some sense into him when the boy abruptly stopped.  
  
"My mommy used ta tell me stories -- about one day how'd we would go off and start a new life without father," Iggy began while trying to hold back tears, "She'd tell me of all the things I'd see other than the dark place downstairs."  
  
Why was this story so familiar to Creed?  
  
"Sugar bombs don't taste good Auntie Lee, I just had to tell you that," the boy told her. Even without him seeing it, Jubilee probably started to smile like an idiot.  
  
"It's an acquired taste," she calmly spoke as the silence hung in the cold night air for a second too long.  
  
"She told me I'd meet other boys to play with. She told me I'd see more television. She told me I'd --" the boy became silent as Creed heard the tears fall to the ground.  
  
Empty promises his own mother used to tell him. That's why it seemed so familiar. He had so much in common with the two individuals talking. This was either fate's twisted game or a big coincidence.  
  
"And you thought you'd get that with me didn't ya," Jubilee piped in between the boys sobs. Her compassion for the situation awkwardly made him feel at ease.  
  
The silence once again filled the night sky. Iggy probably answered silently as the sobs started to subside, till finally the small feral stuttered before speaking up, "I saw somethin' Auntie Lee, in your mind," the boy started out shaky. He knew the boy had a point coming, but didn't know how to use it. So the boy was trying to learn how to manipulate people? Creed waited in anticipation for something he could use against Jubilee.  
  
"Oh what's that," her voice half curious, half afraid. What was she afraid of? He played possum, so the conversation would be private -- yeah right.  
  
"Angelo Torres, Angel Torres, Maria Torres, Lee Ann Torres -- Auntie Lee what does those names mean?" the boy asked as though this wasn't any news to him.  
  
"What does that have to do with you wantin' ta come along?" she asked quickly. Why did she want to change the subject now? Everything started to get interesting. Maybe that's the point of it all. Those names meant something significant to her and he'd exploit it to the full potential. Angel...Angelo Torres...Creed vaguely remembered the purple punk -- he didn't know from where though.  
  
"Well..." so the boy had a point, but brought it up at the worst possible moment. Creed knew the boy didn't have anything to back up this claim. What a wasted opportunity.  
  
"I know where ya gettin' at Igster," she clicked as Creed wondered what was going on, "Do I look like her ta ya?" the simple questioned boggled Creed's mind.  
  
On some level, Jubilee looked like his mother from what he could remember. How could a Chinese-American girl look like someone who died more than one hundred years ago? Simple...  
  
"It's your eyes Auntie Lee, you have her eyes," the boy took the thoughts right out of his mind. He didn't look at the pictures in Iggy's house -- why should he? Knowing this information now, he would of checked it out.  
  
"My mom's were these colors too," she solemnly responded as she huffed, "also the same with Creed," so she did know about his mother. She knew about his father, so why not his mother? Creed just wanted to know how much of his past did Jubilee know. Of course he couldn't ask outright, that'd go against the bad guy's handbook.  
  
"Uncle 'Tooth's mother," he heard the boy say like it was the most impossible thing in the world.  
  
"Hard ta imagine, ain't it -- but you'd be surprise at how much all of us have in common," Jubilee informed as she gave a sigh. "Ya know I wonder 'bout what brought us all together -- I mean why can't I get ta the big shoppin' mall in the sky."  
  
Creed wondered the same thing also, like a couple of weeks ago. First he was the only one to see her -- and that wasn't normal for him. Then the boy is able to see her -- and that's not normal as well.  
  
"To be with that Torres guy Auntie Lee," the boy piped up. Jubilee did a good job getting off subject that he almost forgot about that point. Silence hung in the air like the darkness in the sky. She gave a huge sigh before she continued.  
  
"Angelo...I miss him, he and I were close -- hey don't look at me that way Igster not that way," she mockingly scolded the boy as he heard the boy giggle a little -- the first time he heard it, "He wanted a relationship and I said no -- he died when I was younger..." she trailed off like something bothered her.  
  
"Sorry Igster, I forgot about yer own feelings there," she apologized. Creed didn't understand this at all. This was probably another tactic to get off topic.  
  
"What for Auntie Lee?" The boy honestly asked.  
  
"In the past couple of days, yer father is murdered, ya can't see ya mother anymore, ya saw three people die and in the whole while Creed treats ya like dirt and then --"  
  
"Auntie Lee," the boy interrupted her. Jubilee was right, the boy saw a lot of what Creed would've done on a daily basis. If Creed could smile, he would -- but he was busy trying to listen in, "you and Uncle 'Tooth are the strongest people I know and if this is what you deal with...I want to deal with it too."  
  
The boy found a newfound drive from somewhere deep. Maybe the boy could be his rival someday. Suddenly, the image of a younger him appeared in his mind. He remembered the dream and his weak moment of being unable to kill a girl. If it wasn't for that older man pushing him to kill – he wouldn't be the strong man he is today. Creed thought about it. He got this far with help of people willing to teach him. How could he have another rival if he didn't teach him the way?  
  
"Auntie Lee, I'm scared a lot but...but..."  
  
"Ya want ta be stronger and ya want to see the world right," the specter responded as if she saw the same thing he knew the boy had -- potential, "look, sorry I didn't believe in ya -- but I...when yer scared I'll be there, I won't force ya or talk about ya leavin' if ya want."  
  
"Thank you Auntie Lee," the boy replied with a smile. Even though Creed didn't see it, he knew the boy would do that. Something started to gurgle in his stomach. Creed tried his best to hide it, but it came out -- he yawned.  
  
This startled the boy as he heard him stir.  
  
"So I see yer awake, it's pretty early in the morning Creed -- ya still want to go," Jubilee's flurry of talking was a trap waiting to be sprung. If he answered coherently, that prove he was paying attention. He opted to do something else.  
  
"What?" he groggily replied as he yawned again and stood up. He unzipped his pants and started to dowse the ash.  
  
"Aww Creed that's -- Iggy not you too," the next thing he heard was a stream dowsing the flame.  
  
"It's tradition," Creed huffed the fire became dowsed.


	42. Foundation of a Hardened Heart Part 1

After things settled down, Creed decided to get on the move. He needed to find some wheels because Creed felt the exact location of every pebble beneath his calloused feet -- hours upon hours of walking wore down the boots. Not that he didn't mind this little nature hike, but the radio would be good right now.

The saving grace he called silence started to annoy him. The conversation he heard last night made him want to know about the boy and Jubilee. How can he masterful manipulate them mentally without that information. Hours had passed by and no one uttered a word.  
  
Out of the corner of his amber eyes he noticed the small blonde feral keeping a couple feet back of him. Though this wasn't anything out of the ordinary but he knew better.

The boy had a little bounce in his step – a more lightness in it than before. Also, he noticed the boy's brown eyes didn't dart as much as before and the shoulders' weren't as tense as before. So the boy had a newfound confidence, that's the kind of attitude Creed liked in his rivals. The more confidence they had, the more enjoyable it was to tear it down.  
  
Glancing once again, he saw the specter follow with actions that went against her namesake. What got her so down? She talked to the boy all last night and he knew she could talk all day too, but he wondered what she thought in that mind of hers. Maybe it's more plans to undermine him, or maybe...  
  
The gurgle of running water interrupted his thoughts. He sniffed the air as his nose confirmed it. He turned around to see if the boy or Jubilee noticed – they didn't – good.  
  
Walking casually, he gave quick look back at the boy. If his theorized correctly, the boy wouldn't know much about water except for drinking purposes. Creeds eyes lit up, he'd silently teach the boy and torture him at the same time. Either way it looked like today would turn out to be a good day.  
  
He heard the boy sniff the air as he made a note of how strong the boys' senses where then he saw the boy run past him.  
  
"Hey Igster, where ya goin'?" Jubilee's voice broke through the hours of silence as he suddenly saw her float by him. He noticed the change in her face -- one full of worry. He made note of that too as he rushed after them.  
  
The first thing he noticed was the air became tinged with excitement and life unlike the monotone boredom he'd been with for hours; now, with the crisp natural air, came forth one full of excitement and unpredictability. He looked at the boy who stood at the edge of the shore.  
  
"So this is a river -- me mommy told me stories about them," the boy dipped his index finger in the slow paced water as Creed walked towards the boy.  
  
He looked to the left and right of him. They weren't exactly at the calm of the river, but they weren't in the hustle of it either -- a perfect spot. He looked into the river and saw it was around six feet deep; at least that's what he estimated. The length to one side to the other wasn't that far either, around twenty-five feet. For him, it'd take him a good five minutes to get across -- no problem.  
  
He wasn't interested in what he knew. His gaze came upon the boy as a grin came across his face. He started to walk in the water as the boy turned to pay attention to him.  
  
"Uncle 'Tooth, where are you going?" the first words he heard from the boy all day. The boy's words where weren't ones of fear or depression that he heard in the last couple of days, but of curiosity -- he liked that.  
  
Creed didn't answer the boy as he took another step in as the water suddenly became up to his neck. So his calculations were correct. He started to swim across, he felt the current become faster when he got to the middle. So it'd take him a little longer to get to his destination -- six minutes at the least.  
  
When he got out, he felt the leather outfit he was wearing starting to shrivel.  
  
"Ferget that leather shrinks in water -- just like somethin' else," Jubilee pointed out as he growled and started to take off his leather clothing, leaving him only boxers.  
  
"Yep, I was right," Jubilee pointed out at his boxers again as he sneered. He looked at the direction where the boy stood waiting.  
  
"Ya gonna stand there like an idiot or come 'ere," so his predictions were correct -- the boy didn't know how to swim. The excitement he sensed earlier vanished, now his senses became flooded with fear.  
  
He suddenly saw the specter disappear next to him and appear next to Iggy. He sneered, Jubilee wouldn't mess up his plan this time, "What yer goin' ta let Jubilee help ya out there --," he started to taunt but stopped himself when he saw the boy just jump into the water with no regard.  
  
Creed smiled, the boy had a lot to prove. He watched the boy flail his arms in the water. If the boy drowned now he'd have no rival or a way to keep Jubilee from taking over his mind, "Ya need ta keep yer head above water," he yelled as he walked towards the direction where Iggy started to float down to.  
  
The boy didn't hear him, "Put yer damn head above water boy," he yelled again as the water started to quicken, the boy calmed down and put his head above water and started to dog paddle -- really slowly.  
  
Creed sighed as he decided not to wait standing up; he sat down on the shore watching the boy paddle his way with encouraging words from the floating specter.  
  
A half hour later of swimming, yelling and yawning the boy finally reached the other side of the river. The boy panted heavily, but for the first time in a long while, he saw the boy smile.  
  
"We're goin'," Creed ordered as he got up and started to walk towards the woods, he heard the boy shake the water off and trail right behind him.

The boy didn't waver at all, he stood the same distance from Creed the whole time they walked along the riverbed. The boy had some sense of stamina on him. Using this to his knowledge he spent the rest of the time walking thinking about ways to strengthen that latent stamina. He barely noticed when the trees became a little darker and stars started popping out of the dark sky.

Creed just stopped without looking back, "We're settin' camp here," and with that, he walked away into the woods to get some food and supplies.

He knew he wasn't followed as he felt air that could freeze a normal man to death, but it revitalized Creed. Looking around at the darkness and sounds of the night, he reflected on the city life style he'd been used to. Watching enemy movement, being trapped in a world full of idiotic (but easily controlled) humans and destroying lives with a single swipe made him forget what it was like to live in the wilderness, but now, nostalgia came back in force...  
  
He shouldn't get used to it because...well...it wasn't like he had a choice on what road to travel. Assassins' these days found him at the most obscure stores and restaurants; however, even if they were stupid enough to think to hunt for him in the wilderness, they'd soon find out that they didn't have a chance in the territory he'd grown used to.  
  
As for right now, he didn't look all that menacing with only boxer shorts on. He had to carry his too small clothing with him, the money being drenched after his little swim. He remembered how the boy kept up though, not too much of his surprise. He smelled adrenaline rush of almost drowning still on the boy; Creed smirked, the boy would get used to that.

He senses went buzzing when he stumbled upon a nest – a squirrels nest. Well they'd have squirrel tonight...

The deed was done and he headed back towards where he left the boy and the specter to see auburn lights fill his view. He didn't sense any danger which only meant one thing. He went past the clearing to see a nice size fire burning. He just lay the carcasses of the freshly killed animals down and using nearby stick, made a little shis-ka-squirrel. He looked across to see the boy already had some food already – fish impaled with stick. The boy learned fast.  
  
Now all three were around the fire that the boy made and they ate their own separate meals they caught for themselves. Creed just looked over to the stone-faced boy eating his fish. Creed knew something sparked in the boy and he was the cause of it.

Molding things to his whim, that's what Creed liked to do. Now that the boy gained some confidence, he'd have to teach him some stuff -- like how to fight, how to kill, how to be...He looked around as the boy started to yawn as he lay back on the grassy area of the shore.  
  
The boy was tired already? Creed shrugged as Jubilee stood there watching the boy. In a couple days, she changed from this spark that retorted at him to something else. He couldn't put his finger on it, but at least she wasn't bothering him.  
  
He sneered as he laid back and looked at the stars. So the boy got Jubilee's attention. That didn't matter to him; he wanted to get rid of her after all. Out of the deal though he'd get years of torturing the boy -- so no big loss -- right? He drifted off into sleep as he the stars above him became blurry.  
  
He didn't sleep long as he heard the rumblings of the grass. He kept his eyes closed, as he smelled the boy stir.  
  
"Auntie Lee what are you doing?" he heard the boy whisper.  
  
"It still freaks me out," he heard her voice close to his ear. He was glad that she didn't find out yet, "when he sleeps like that ya never suspect anythin' -- it's almost nice."  
  
"Auntie Lee, don't you hate him?" the boy bluntly put it as Creed felt a tinge of pain the same place when he thought about the boy, "he hurt you," the boy continued without malice in his voice, but rather flatly.  
  
Silence filled the air, as he knew her response...  
  
"Nah," she stated playfully as her voice became distant. She didn't hate him? She should because, like Iggy said, he hurt her and the runt.  
  
"I did when before this, but not as much anymore," she gave out the clear answer. What exactly changed her mind? Questions raced through his mind as he attempted to be quiet and not voice them out.  
  
"So how 'bout you Igstser, ya hate ol' Uncle 'Tooth?" she asked the boy. He initially smelled anger coming from the boy, but that faded rather quickly.  
  
"Nah Auntie Lee," the boy tried to do the best impersonation of the apparition and he heard her laugh.  
  
"Hating people is a waste of time -- that's what mommy used to tell me," the boy followed through. So this was the boys' cop out -- the whole 'hatred is a waste of time' thing. He met many people like that, but he knew deep down -- those emotions boiled and simmered. When let out, they became good assassins. He heard the boy yawn and lay back down on the grass as she continued.  
  
"Yer mommy was a smart woman," she replied. Great, so Jubilee had the same answer too, "but that ain't the reason I don't hate Creed," or not.  
  
Creed now became enthralled in the conversation. So what if he felt like he needed sleep, he fought it with all his might to listen to her reason.  
  
"Ya see, I've seen a lot of what Creed used ta do before he met ya an' me," she began as though she tried teaching the boy something, "he done some pretty bad stuff ta lots of innocent people."  
  
That sentence got to him at the right spot. He spent his life being an assassin and he had no regrets about it.  
  
"But there was one thing that changed my mind..." Which was? "It ain't good fer yer ears Igster," she teased the boy and him. He stifled a growl, as he wanted to know the answer.  
  
"Seriously, Igster, its when he came in ta save ya -- ain't seen a guy like 'im do that fer anyone -- and I've been in his mind," she reminded her audience. That day became a blank for him; he didn't even receiving a glow after killing that bastard of a father.  
  
The funny part was that he didn't smell any change in the air. Did this mean Iggy agreed with her?  
  
"He ain't gonna change, ya know that Igster," she warned the boy. She was correct on that count. He wouldn't change for anyone or anything -- he liked the way he was, "but he's the reason yer still alive and here -- that's why I can't hate 'im."  
  
So he hit a good spot with the girl -- good. Did he hear the boy sleep? He couldn't have heard when the boy started to sleep because he was too consumed what Jubilee had to say. So who was her audience then?  
  
"Creed I know yer awake, don't try ta pull this stunt again like last night 'cause I'm like Santa -- know when yer awake and when yer asleep," so she fooled him. He growled as he forced himself to not look at her.  
  
"But what I said is true, thanks fer savin' the boy and givin' him somethin' I wasn't able ta do -- I never told ya thanks fer all that -- so thanks," she didn't say angrily, but rather with he knew was the honest truth.  
  
Creed let the night overtake him. He went to sleep more confused than before.

Creed didn't sleep well that night. He didn't have a dream with visual aides, but rather words that echoed in his head – her words. Did she really know a lot about him? Well she'd have to since she controlled him on more than one occasion; yet why wasn't she mad at him?  
  
He killed her. He ended her life in front of the person she loved – in theory. Then he remembered that she had a reason to die. What was it? He wanted to know now. This would unlock the mystery about her liking him.  
  
What was he thinking? She didn't have to 'like' him, she just didn't hate him – there's a difference.  
  
He awoke to the sounds of sizzling ash. The smell in the air made his nose twinge – the boy started tradition without him. He growled as he got up slowly. Scratching the various places on his body that itched. He blindly joined in the tradition, as he had to plot out what to do next.  
  
If they went along the river, they'd find a town eventually. He remembered he only wore little left to the imagination and since winter was around the bend, he wouldn't want to be caught in a blizzard with his boxers.  
  
Did they need supplies? Of course the boy would carry everything and he did have more around three thousand dollars to spend – wait – did he just think 'they'? When did he think as a group?  
  
After he did his business, he knew that these were extreme circumstances, meaning that he'd have to go out of his shell for even a little bit – and he didn't like it. Flustering his eyes for a bit, he saw Iggy dust off that 'Hooters' hat. He'd have to trust the boy to go into town and buy stuff for him. That shouldn't be a problem because the boy's safety relied on him and his adoration of the specter.  
  
"C'mon," Creed picked up his too small leather clothes, "we're goin' down upstream," that's all that he gave as the small boy nodded. He liked that about the boy, he'd always been obedient.  
  
"Why Creed?" Jubilee, on the other hand, is another story all together.  
  
"We need ta get somethin' fer me ta wear – or do ya like seein' me in my boxers," he retorted as the specter looked away. He decided not to pursue it – for now, "I don't like ta walk 'round like this, plus it's a good time ta steal some cars and wreck some havoc and do ya see any cars ta steal 'round here?" he put it bluntly, even though it wasn't his aim. Going by foot would be faster instead of trying to steal another car that would alert assassins in this area about his presence.  
  
"K' Creed," how quickly did she agree with him? The way things were going everything would be smooth sailing from here on out. So they started to walk downstream, single file. He led the charge because they trusted him to do so – the fools.  
  
The rapid pace kept going for a couple hours, with no sound from any of the two. No complaints meant that this trip would go by quicker and he'd be on his own. He smiled at the thought as a sudden change in the air made him weary.  
  
Gunpowder, trucks and humans could mean only one thing – danger. He turned back to them quickly to shush them. Jubilee precariously looked at him and the boy stood doing the opposite.  
  
He ushered them over to the deeper parts of the woods as they all went in. He became weary of his steps as he relied on his senses to get him through the unknown. That's when he heard something loud and something familiar coming. He looked at the boy with a glare, "stay here, and don't get in my way," he quietly ordered, as he didn't look back.  
  
He stepped out of the safety of the foliage to get a better whiff of what was coming. He smelled the air, two different scents other than the automobile – this must mean two different people. This trip couldn't get any better. He'd steal the car and things would be okay.  
  
He sniffed the air again as this time he heard it coming. The occupants in the hummer (he determined the type this time) smelled too clean cut. A hummer and clean-cut people could only mean one thing.  
  
He jumped back into the foliage and hid close to the boy who stood there shaking, "stop that or else," he unsheathed his claws as the boy automatically stopped. He loved the power he had.  
  
The sound of the car became louder as his predictions were correct. Two men in army like uniforms passed by with heavy machine guns.  
  
"Nothing's here sir," One of them dispatched into the radio.  
  
"Data found two beings around here, they couldn't have gone far," the voice made almost made Creed berserk with rage. He knew that voice, the Agent Jackson has something to do with this. He looked as the hummer made a three point turn – showing a familiar insignia.  
  
Weapon X...

Oh how he loved to rip those two measly army officers to shreds right now. He growled as he started to rush out of the brush, but he saw her appear in front of him.  
  
"Get out of my way," he growled lowly to her. He had the element of surprise on his side, so he'd get the information he wanted without having to kill them. She didn't say anything witty at him and just stood there, staring at him.  
  
"Igster," she called out to the hiding boy.  
  
"Yes, Auntie Lee," the boy called out with all the strength he could muster, but it came out rather timid.  
  
"Uncle 'Tooth and I will be back, ya just stay right there – ya got that," she warned the boy. What was she thinking? The boy just nodded as he kept hidden in there, prepared for anything. The smile given to the boy now turned into a somber one.  
  
"Creed, let's go," she ordered. He quizzically looked at her, but decided that he should just go with it as he followed behind her. They started to trail the hummer within the foliage. For him it was easy to hide his tracks and be silent. He looked over to her and saw her floating right next to him determination in her eyes.  
  
She had her own stake in it as well, enough to leave her young ward for it. When he left Weapon X all those years ago – he never looked back. Why keep tabs on some place he stole all the good information about. Yet he heard these stories of Sinister, Agent Jackson and the Director, but he didn't care – he just had places to go and people to kill, and since he saw Sinister a couple of weeks ago -- those stories were probably outdated.  
  
They stopped where two parts of a river met. From the foliage they saw the hummer stop what seemed like the middle of nowhere. Suddenly, a gap came from the grassy floor, large enough to fit the hummer as it went through. Before either of them could do anything, the gap closed in an instant.  
  
So they became more intelligent than before. From what he remembered the compound was visible from any range and was known by even the most generic henchmen. Now they tried to hide their whereabouts.  
  
"Stay here," Jubilee ordered the contemplative form as she left him. He didn't even get to say a witty reply when she phased through the ground where the compound was. This change of attitude confused him. On one hand, it's great that she didn't bother him and became determined to help him, but, on the other hand, he had to wonder what drove her for them to work together.  
  
Even though the voice of the director made him berserk, he had a choice to deal with it or not. He became satisfied with what information he attained all those years ago. He used it against Logan and he made him suffer for a while – a smile came over his face when he remembered that moment.  
  
The very thought of finding even more info to torture his rival enticed him to want to go in. He saw the girl float up from the grassy area and beckoned him to go to her. Without a second though, he did as he was asked and stood right next to her.  
  
"They're doing a sweep of the entire area, and are sending another truck up now – I checked and their motions sensors are good, but the people using the equipment are lousy. Someone other than us triggered a huge mutant response..." she trailed of lost in thought, but she shook her head to get back to reality, "...and it seems like they got him."  
  
'Him' the girl knew who this 'him' was.  
  
"So who's this guy," he asked her. Her recon work rivaled most other mutants he worked with, so she had to know who this guy was and by the looks of it – she knew the guy well.  
  
Well look wot we have here, a telepathic voice sneered in his head. He turned and growled to see who it was.  
  
One man stood there. Brown hair, short enough to be rebellious but long enough to cover his face, didn't cover his angry face. He wore all black head to toe as rage glinted in his eyes. His lips looked unnatural, liked they were pasted on by a two year old. Creed knew he recognized this boy from somewhere but where.  
  
Didn't have to look far for you know, getting revenge for the gel would be easier than I thought, the telepathic voice rang out again as flames started tow whirl around the guy in black.  
  
Creed looked from the corner of his eyes, the girl had the same reaction all those weeks ago when she saw her 'Wolvie' go back to being a feral. Her eyes couldn't believe what she saw.  
  
"Jono..." her words escaped her lips.


	43. Foundation of a Hardened Heart Part 2

So that's where he remembered him. She used to hang out with the guy a long time ago. He had no face back then, that much he remembered.  
  
"What happened ta yer face frail, got enough money fer plastic surgery," he taunted the mishap of a man that stood in front of him. A blur passed in front of his eyes, suddenly he realized – how did this mishap sneak up on him without him noticing?  
  
The mishap's unnatural lips were still full of apathy, as the flames subsided, At least one low blow before I kill ya mate, the mishap stood there in a fighting stance. Did the travesty of human form really think he had a chance against him?  
  
So Creed began to charge at the twisted malformed existence, he didn't have time to deal with this nuisance. He popped his claws out and when he saw the cracked parts of those lips, he swiped down only to get nothing. Suddenly, he felt pain in his stomach, the force almost knocked the wind out of him.  
  
Clutching his stomach with one had, he looked forward to see that the man called Jono wasn't in front of him.  
  
Right here bloke, the thick English accent pounded in his head. He growled as he turned around suddenly to see the mishap in a fight stance to the side of him. How'd he get there and why isn't he fighting with the flames that once swirled around him.  
  
Wot thought of I'd waste me flames on a sorry bloke like yourself, well ya asked for it, the frail opened his mouth and a psionic flame erupted from it. Creed almost didn't dodge in time, the tip of his elbow burned being proof. He didn't see the frail in front of him. He quickly scanned the area and sniffed the air – the frail was right behind him.  
  
With quick reflexes he swept the frail behind him, hearing a satisfying thud on the grass. He used this opportunity to jump from his crouched position behind him, raking his claws through the abomination.  
  
"Creed," he heard her call out to him. Her tone wasn't a mad one (much to his surprise). Was that concern he heard? That's when he felt the burning at the edge of his fingers – revealing only his adamantium skeletal frame and the smell of cooked flesh.  
  
Agonizing in pain, he clutched his hands as he yowled in pain. He growled as he looked over to his opponent popping up to his feet. Blood didn't drip from the ripped flesh, but psionic flames. The scars that he created started to heal. Creed didn't know what to make of this, but he knew that if he didn't get rid of this frail fast, his whole chance of getting files on he greatest rival would be ruined.  
  
You sick freak, you think with her voice, he heard him yell in his head once again. At first it caught him off guard. 'Her voice' what the hell was he talking about? Then he realized that when he heard her call out to him – the mishap read his mind. So from what he could tell this abomination could sense his thoughts, talk in his head, go real fast, burst flames from his body and heal his wounds – great.  
  
"Well, I did hear her last words when I killed her," he vocally taunted the frail, hoping that it had an effect. He looked over where Jubilee floated and she seemed too involved with the frail rather than what she said. Just like he predicted the boy started to become engulfed in flames and then he saw a pretty horrific site – if he wasn't him. The frail's mouth started to melt off as flames started to erupt from his chest.  
  
Why you... he heard the rage reverberate in his head. His plan worked, but was it for the better? He saw a huge flame beam coming towards him and he had to do something drastic. He jumped into the cold river as he saw the flames start to destroy the foliage that helped him hide.  
  
He knew if he went up to get air he'd get blasted. He made a mental note – don't growl underwater, it wastes air. He felt his cells pop as he stayed down there for a good couple of minutes. No! the abomination wouldn't get the upper hand on him, he'd find a way to get through this, then he'll get into the Weapon X compound, steal some information about the runt. After that, he'd go on this annoying quest with the boy and the specter, and then finally he'd be free.   
  
His insatiable pride concocted a plan. He saw his opponent become impatient as the flames started to flare up. Finally, he saw a beam head straight for the water. He didn't try this trick for a long time, and though his adamantium frame would be added weight this should work. Making sure that his feet touched the soft mud floor; he waited for the best possible second to rise.  
  
Now...  
  
He pushed as hard as he flew out of the water with a growl and ready to strike. The unsuspecting sap wasn't prepared as the force of his jump and his fist connected with the right side of the his opponents face. He felt the burning for an instant, and then suddenly became nothing.  
  
He looked at his knuckles starting to knit the flesh back together. He looked down at his fallen opponent – damn that took a while. He wanted to get the reaction on her face, so he looked up to see her pointing at him as she tried to say something.  
  
But her words fell of deaf ears as he felt pain engulf his entire body as he fell down to the ground – his muscles spasms went at an alarming rate and making him almost pass out.  
Blinking to fight to stay conscious he looked up at the cloudy sky, a familiar face came into the frame.  
  
"Jackson..." the words barely escaped his lips as everything started to get dark.  
  
"Welcome back Victor," the last things he heard before the darkness took over for the second time this month – what a slow month.

A few seconds of complete and total darkness, he tried to flutter his eyes and pain greeted him throughout his body, but he knew she was with him. He didn't have to open his eyes or smell the air, he just knew.  
  
"Creed, this ain't good," she worriedly told him as he finally got a chance to smell the air. The sterile place annoyed his senses. He knew he was bolted down, when he tried to resist he felt the cold metal grate against his skin – at least it didn't have electro-sensors like last time he was with the program.  
  
He tried to talk, to give a witty remark to Jubilee, but his lips didn't move. He looked down to see a clunky piece of machinery surrounded his mouth. So they put a muzzle on him – nothing new.  
  
Actually, being trapped within the Weapon X compound wasn't new for him. In the back of his mind he sort of expected it. He's been a prisoner of war so many times that he lost count, but he's escaped from all those situations before.  
  
"They got ya trapped way at the bottom of this place, if ya go outside sensor's will pick ya up – and its voice activated ta get out of here," she gave him the stats of the area as he acknowledged everything she said with a nod. So they became cautious of their activities this time.  
  
"You've been out fer a couple of hours Creed, and since Jono can read yer mind I didn't want ta take over and hear me in yer thoughts," she explained. So that's the reason why she didn't take over his body. Why'd she care about that 'bloke' so much – to give him that sort of consideration at least?  
  
"I know what yer thinkin', if ya want to know why I care 'bout Jono's mental health then nod," she let out an exasperated sigh as she put her fingers on her forehead. He nodded as there wasn't that much to do anyway.  
  
"Jono was a good bud of mine, he was there when things started to go downhill all those years ago," he noticed the girl look up in the ceiling as she had nothing to say for a while, "when I came back one day from being from the depths of hell, I found out he just left – I knew the people around me knew where he was but they wouldn't tell me."  
  
If she could pound her fist on the cold metallic table in font of him, she'd probably break it. Instead her hand phased right through it, he didn't have to smell the air to know that her frustration was building.  
  
"Next time I saw him, his face was whole not like that trash ya saw today, but that was a couple of years ago," she gave out another sigh as he became enthralled at what the connection was with his opponent, "I was alone that day and when he came to me he said he wasn't Chamber anymore, but Torque and he gave me two options, be a part of Weapon X or die," he saw the anguish on her face. Normally he'd like it, but at this particular moment he felt indifferent.  
  
"That was one hell of a battle, but the others came ta save me and as he slinked away he promised that I'd join this program – but that was a couple of years ago," she looked at him with eyes that couldn't cry, but as quickly as he noticed that she looked at him at concern.  
  
She gave him a haphazard smile, "I know what yer thinkin' now – why won't this girl shut up," that wasn't what he was thinking, but it should be. He forced his eyes to turn into a glare as she stood up as her pride came back to her.  
  
"When ya think of a way out of here just ask why – It won't be out of character fer ya ta taunt him about his feelings fer me, but he shouldn't be someone ya push too hard" she looked at him with complete seriousness. So Jono wanted Jubilee in Weapon X. He tried to figure out how things would've changed if Jubilee went to Weapon X.  
  
She'd lose her smile...  
  
Those were the first words that popped up in his head. He shook his head violently to get those thoughts out of his head. He's an assassin that tore up a lot more bodies than days of the week, and all he could think about in his psychotic twisted head of his was her smile.  
  
"Ya ready, the greetin' party is here," she piped up making him make eye contact with her. He heard footsteps coming towards him. Jubilee heard it too because she phased through the door and came back to him.  
  
"That guy ya called Jackson is comin' this way – alone," she appeared in front of him to tell him the news. So he'd be tortured by Jackson this time – how fun, "Oh, If ya cared, Igster is fine hidin' in the foliage – I'm goin' ta check up on 'im – ya can take care of this." She tried to encourage him as a tugging of something made him a little uncomfortable – he never felt this before – so he didn't know how to react.  
  
"Take care Creed, I'll be back soon," she suddenly disappeared from his sight. He felt a growl arise from his throat as the door opened and the girl was right – Jackson stood before him.  
  
"Victor, good to see you awake," the weasel started, "our agents tracking you haven't lost their tabs about you in the past month – it'll be like old times. I torture you to give me information – you scream like a bitch, you know the drill."  
  
Creed grimaced as he felt electrodes going through his body as her words echoed in his head.  
  
Take Care...

As the electricity coursed through his body, killing off cells left and right (and his healing factor regenerating them) he gritted his teeth and took the pain. This pipsqueak wouldn't make him scream, not before! Not now!  
  
The electricity stopped as he smelled the burned flesh and hair go to his senses – not like this was his first time going through this.  
  
"Now Victor, we don't know how you found this base, we've been operating here for around three years now and no one has even searched here. So how did you find it?" Jackson asked with a smile on his face. He smelled the pride oozing off his tormentor – this almost made him gag.  
  
"Oh that's right you can't talk at the moment, since you know the muzzle thing," Jackson walked up to him and knocked on the metal muzzle on him. Creed just fought to have an opportunity to scratch him – success.  
  
"My leg, now I have to get that fixed," He saw the farce anger portrayed as he once again felt the electricity running throughout his body like an outlet. If anyone knew how much he could endure – torture wise – it's probably Jackson. For now, they probably wanted him alive. He grit his teeth once again as the pain got worse.  
  
Take care...  
  
The words echoed in his mind once again. His eyes looked around, but saw nothing but the sadistic man torturing him. Jubilee said she'd be back soon, so why was she taking so long?  
  
"Try that stunt again Victor, then maybe I won't go so easy," Agent Jackson warned as he took something out of his pouch. Creed automatically recognized it, an image inducer. He wore one way back then when he tried to be "better."  
  
Agent Jackson clasped it onto his forehead – rather delicately actually. He knew that wearing this would mean no electricity running through his body.  
  
"So I ask you again Victor," Agent Jackson started the interrogation rather proudly, "how'd you find out about this base."  
  
Creed visualized the reasons that he got here carefully. If he thought of the boy, then that variable for escape would be ruined. So he thought of the last couple minutes of his consciousness. He made a picture of that guy named Jono and him fighting through the woods. He always prized his imagination.  
  
He saw Jackson have a grim expression on his face but in an instant changed back to a regular smug look, "Ah so Torque led you here, I should be angry, but as of recently we needed new recruits – or in your case – experienced alumni."  
  
Creed knew what this meant. Once again, the only options of his freedom were: work with them or die. Since dying wasn't the option at the moment, he'd work with them – and steal anything he could.  
  
Jackson took the image inducer off his head as he went and sat down on the cold table next to him, "Well that was easier than expected, what happened to the Creed that wouldn't say a word till the end?" a disappointed look spread over his tormentor's face.  
  
Like he wanted to please that weasel.  
  
Take care...  
  
The words echoed in his head again. As he felt the electricity run through his body once again. He barely got a chance to look at what triggered it. So the weasel had a remote control. He kept that in mind.  
  
"This'll get you nice in weak till Torque comes in here and puts some mind blocks for me," with that he saw the man leave without turning off the electricity. If he could curse his luck, he would – but instead he focused on the pain that ran throughout his body.  
  
Take care...  
  
Her voice came through in his mind. He felt somewhat calm when hearing them. No, he didn't care about what Jubilee said to him. The pain came back twenty fold. He tried to yowl in pain, but it stayed within his throat.  
  
Take care...  
  
She wasn't here; he looked around for her through his pain. He shouldn't care – He didn't care. He wanted to get rid of her. Besides, there might be an assignment to that dealt with supernatural crap. His thoughts became interrupted as the pain racked his body – it seemed like the good Jackson liked to up the wattage.  
  
Take care...  
  
The voice became stronger in his mind, but this time the boy's voice echoed along with it. He focused on their voice and on their presence. She would always be tied to him if she tried to escape and the boy wouldn't leave her. Her and the boy wouldn't escape from him, wouldn't leave him. Though the electricity ran throughout his body, he focused on the things that he would teach the boy and how he'd annoy Jubilee. If a smile could come out of a muzzle...  
  
He knew minutes passed, and he knew that at the level of electricity he'd been going through – he should've been dead or unconscious – yet he was neither. The electricity stopped suddenly as the door opened.  
  
Thirty minutes of shock therapy, that couldn't kill ya know mate – that'll be my job, the telepathic voice came into his mind. So this is the Jono that Jubilee was so fond of. It'll be fun making the boy insane. A smirk came over his face as he grimaced for anything they threw at him.


	44. Foundation of a Hardened Heart Part 3

Padded with a type of fiber that cushioned and bended, the cell's artificial light glared off his black uniform from the old days. Sweat dripped from his brow as he heaved up and down carefully. He leaned back against the wall and slowly sat down, pondering his 'new' feelings.  
  
The urge to kill Agent Jackson faded away in his mind. He remembered that he wanted to kill him and worse; yet, now he couldn't grasp that concept.  
  
This is where he belongs. Just another lap dog for the government or whoever's sponsoring this compound – it didn't matter. He looked at the walls in front of him and sighed, he scratched it with his claws only to see the rubber padding form back to its original state.  
  
The words that were going through his mind weren't the ones that Jubilee encouraged him to be. He cringed at the thought of her. Why did he feel like this?

Then the truthful words pounded back in his mind...  
  
He recollected what happened only a few minutes ago.  
  
---------------------  
  
"Aww the little firemouth is tryin' ta get me ta go be a dog like 'im," Sabretooth huffed as he struggled at his bounds. The muzzle now off, he taunted Torque to no end and talking crap about someone felt so good. Struggling once again against his bounds, he knew that he couldn't escape this way, but to escape one had to incite fear – and starting now wouldn't be a problem.  
  
Shut up, he got a simple reply from the frail. Creed sneered at the boy trying to plot his words like a chess set.  
  
"Still mad about me beatin' the crap out of ya," Creed feigned sympathy as a toothy grin came over his face. The tactic he wanted to play worked most of the time. Hurt the other guy's pride enough so he takes it upon himself to gain it back – Creed killed many people that way.  
  
Nah, just gives me another chance to do something much more worse than what you did to the gel, the frail didn't have to have any expressions, but Creed could tell the frail smirked at the situation.  
  
"Worse than the jacked up plastic surgery they call yer head," Creed mocked warily as he spat onto the ground. The electricity that went throughout his body died down for quite a while now, but he felt the jolts hit certain places on his body. He grimaced as he once again went over his creed:  
  
He'd get out, no matter what this boy did to him mentally.  
  
Hell, even the great Professor X tried to help him – didn't stop him from killing.  
  
So let's check out wot's in that psychotic head of yers, the frail announced when he felt his mind being intruded on. After years of having this happen, he learned a trick or two.  
  
Mental shields, the more fun it is to break 'em mate, Torque warned as he felt the intrusion go further into his mind. Creed didn't know what the frail was looking for, but it didn't take a scientist to figure out that this was personal rather than business.  
  
If the frail had a face, he swore the frail became shocked when he saw the images in his mind. Maybe the boy hit a spot where he killed certain people – that couldn't be it since this man in front of him probably was an assassin also. So what shocked this 'bloke' to make him clutch his head and stumble backwards?  
  
"Saw somethin' ya weren't prepared for," Creed's toothy grin became wider – so the torture began now. Suddenly he felt flames around his right arm. Yowling in pain he saw the second degree burn marks trying to heal it. The frail ran over to him and jabbed him in the stomach, causing Creed to let out an exasperated breath.  
  
Where is she!? he heard him yell into his mind, I know you got her somewhere where is she!? the wrath in his voice almost hurt his head – almost.  
  
"Who are you talkin' bout frail – I killed a lot of females in –"  
  
Jubilee, you freak where is she!? Creed didn't have time to finish his taunt, due to the anger he instilled in the frail. Calling upon his memory he tried remembered something a couple of weeks ago.  
  
"I killed her simple as that, the runt didn't save her -- didn't ya go to her funeral, and see that runt sufferin' – oh wait were ya too busy bein' all angsty ta visit?" He let loose the question as he felt another burning sensation on his left arm. Yowling in pain he couldn't do anything but wait for that part of his body to heal. He saw the frail wobble as the frail went over to the medical table to help him gain leverage.  
  
She could've taken ya, I know she could've, Now the frail started to spout out words in his head that he didn't quite care about. He hurt him where it mattered the most – who was he not to follow up?  
  
"Didn't seem like it when her guts fell ta the –"Creed now felt his arm that just recuperated flame up again. This Jono fellow got angry a little too much. As it sounded to him from what Jubilee told him, they were just friends – yet this guy acted like...  
  
I knew her, she told me everything, I saw her powers grow – at this very base...  
  
Jubilee...part of Weapon X?

"Well does it look like she's here yappin' away about how she kicked my ass," he growled through his clenched teeth. She didn't say anything about a stay at Weapon X – he had to be lying – to get into his head.  
  
You musta done something to her, she messed up Kyle in a training session, he heard the telepath's mind travel and Creed ended up picking up on those thoughts. That miserable excuse of a feral still works here? Oh what fun it would be torturing him like he's torturing this frail now; however, from Torque's story, it seems Jubilee got to the torturing first before him, he'd have to hear the story from her – if this was true.  
  
"If ya mean slice her stomach in half – then ya I did something," Creed let out soft chuckle at his own witty remark. He knew she didn't mind bringing up her death -- besides she wasn't here for the moment. Once again he was rewarded with a burning sensation on his left leg. As he felt all his appendages hurting and trying to recover from the burns he saw the telepath look down on the floor.  
  
You're sick Victor, the telepath finally let out angrily as Creed felt his mind being intruded on once again – this time he knew what this was about and had to focus on not letting it take over completely.  
  
Jackson wants to keep you around, fine by me – saves me the trouble of finding you when you piss him off. Creed knew what to do in this situation – since mind blocks have been put in his mind so many times. So he had to keep a part of himself hidden, while most of it becomes erased. He feigned struggling as one thought kept him from forgetting to hate Agent Jackson.  
  
"Like ya can kill me frail!" he taunted after feeling the mind block put in place. That was one mind block set in place and there were probably more coming his way. He had to just stay focus that's all and pissing off someone made him more focused than ever. The response he got from the telepath reaffirmed his thought that kept him able to kill Jackson.  
  
If the frail could seethe out hatred, Creed knew he would. Now Creed prepared for the backlash, but nothing came as he heard a mental sigh as the frail sat upon the medical table looking at him – like how a kid would try to configure a rubix cube.  
  
Did she want to die that badly? the statement made Creed lose concentration for a second. He remembered the words that Jubilee gave him that time. How would the sorry excuse for a telepath know the reason she didn't block.

He heard the frail mentally laugh in his brain, like he solved the puzzle. No matter what the frail would say, he had to keep the hatred in his mind up, When she came all those years ago, that's what she wanted to die so badly and I was supposed to protect her.  
  
"Yeah well, join the club of failures in her life," he verbally interjected and he knew she had many. Once again he braced for one of his limbs becoming a living torch, but the retribution didn't come.  
  
She wanted to be stronger and I helped her. Unlike those bastards back there always being the selfish whores they are, the unemotional being ignored his comments, but that didn't matter. He agreed with the point the frail brought up – and when did he suddenly become the listening ear? Better question, why did he want to become the listening ear that wanted to know the truth?  
  
"If this is yer knew way of torturin' me, I'd rather go back becoming a barbeque," Creed verbally told the frail. This action would lead to two places, either the frail would keep going or he'd take his offer and the electricity would run through his body. Either way, he held firm in his hatred and tried not thinking about her.  
  
On our first mission, we supposed to kill these two humans – she was all into it, till we actually saw 'em. Two kids, she freaked out leaving me to do the dirty work, the frail continued as he once again was ignored. He noticed the frail didn't exactly jump for joy about killing (like how he would).  
  
"Killin' little children now – good fer ya – become more like me," he saw the frail flinch, but do nothing about it. Either the frail didn't care or he wanted his story to be told first – then retribution later.  
  
She went back to the people that betrayed her, tellin' 'em lies about what went on – and they stupidly believed her. I had to go track her down and bring 'er back but she looked me in the eye an' said 'ain't goin' back' yeah, that sounded like something she would say. Creed now decided to not say anything anymore – let the frail finish with his story. Then he'd come back with a witty retort that will help him concentrate on hating.  
  
Before I can take her in, all beat up and such, she asked me a question 'I'm not goin' back, you know they'll torture me – why don't ya kill me? Torque continued as he heard the him give out a heavy sigh. He didn't care what he spewed into his mind – he'd still have his mind on hatred, getting out – except this information could be useful when he got out...  
  
I wouldn't let that happen, I l...liked her too much to let that happen, but she wanted to die that day – she couldn't hide anything from me, Torque left him on a cliffhanger as some of the focus went to the next statement that would go off in his head – he could do both.  
  
I would've taken care of her, been there for her – the whole bloody lot – last thoughts before those x-bastards came were, 'I can smile fer everyone Jono, but not ta ya, Something wasn't right with his statement, something that filled him with a feeling that was like dread, but worse.  
  
I see in your thoughts, Victor, that she's smiling a lot, well, that mean I know she's dead – because she couldn't smile at me, the frail let out a sigh before he continued. 'What did he mean?', he almost blurted out, she couldn't smile for unredeemable monsters like ourselves...  
  
Torque trailed off as outbursts that he never thought would happen ran through his head. Jubilee smiled for him and she knew more about him than anyone. Unless...  
  
How can you grasp a smile that wasn't meant for you? the man in black poetically spouted off. Was she even real? No, she had to be real! She argued with him, laughed at him, smiled at him...cared for him – she had to be because he started to...  
  
Now let's get those mental blocks up shall we, the telepath intruded on his mind and he couldn't fight it. He lost the hatred that kept him focused, and in turn gained a sense of shame and doubt.

---------------------  
  
The experience left him in this padded cell, now looking out into the space that wasn't there.  
  
What was he thinking? He couldn't be serious about caring about the way she died. She died – that's it.  
  
She wouldn't be hanging around you if she died on her own...  
  
The thought flashed in his mind as he tried to claw at the wall again – only it reshaping before his eyes. He sneered at something he couldn't tear down.  
  
Who even said it was her? One enemy or another could've made this whole beginning at the start -- her death triggering the events. She just could be an implant in his mind to stop him from killing or worse – lead him to this compound.  
  
His head hurt from the thoughts crashing in his head. She wouldn't smile for monsters, that's what Torque told him and even though he was in extreme amounts of pain, he didn't smell the guy lie once.  
  
Trusting something his senses rather than hope in his memories became rather good right now...  
  
She once told him that he wanted to be his 'conscious' not his 'conscience.' Usually when someone hallucinates something, it projects something that he or she wants (thank goodness for CIA training). Even though he didn't want to admit it, he felt all these new feelings when she came around, but she wasn't a real ghost – but his hallucinations – Torque proved that to him. He slashed at the wall at his frustration – only to see it form back to it's original form.  
  
"Creed," he heard a far off distant voice call his name – her voice. No, did they think torturing him this way would make him comply? He didn't want to hear it. He tried drowning out the voice by slashing the wall and growling at the unchanging enemy in front of him.  
  
"Creed," the voice got louder, meaning it was closer. He slashed harder – he was Sabretooth, the greatest serial killer villain of all time. He couldn't feel anything but the euphoria that came over his body after killing someone. He didn't care for the boy and want him to grow up stronger. He didn't care for Jubilee and her smile. His purpose in life wasn't to find a way to get rid of her.  
  
He wasn't Creed or "Uncle 'Tooth." – just Sabretooth.  
  
He slashed downward, stopping to see her face phase through the wall in front of him. His hallucination looked worried as she fully appeared in front of him, "Yer a hard man ta find Creed, so ya figured out a way ta get out of here."  
  
She had faith in him to get out of here – well at least his hallucination did, "No what's it ta ya." He gruffly replied as he turned away from her.  
  
"Gee, what the electricity kill, all yer brain cells or somethin'," she teased him as he made certain to look away.  
  
"Yer not real, just a hallucination in my mind," he repeated this thought out loud. She suddenly appeared in front of his face – the furrow in her brow – he saw it before he killed her.  
  
"Whoa whoa, didn't we just discuss that like five billion panels ago," she exaggerated the truth. He knew that she'd use the comic book analogy – reports told him she liked them; yet, this was far from a comic book.  
  
"Okay ya saw me control ya, control the boy, ya gained some of my memories --," she went to list the reasons why she was real, but he could counteract those points easily.  
  
"Ya heard of mind implants, yer precious Wolvie got 'em – why am I arguin' with somethin' that ain't there," he finally tried to slash it down physically – only to slash air and received "her" rolling "her" eyes at him.  
  
He heard her verbally sigh as he heard her mumble about two steps forward and one step backwards, "So where d'ya get off thinkin' that I'm a 'hallucination' ya ain't one that is brainwashed often?" Only his mind would know about that information.  
  
Creed could only laugh at the situation, a portion of his mind argued with him about his sanity – he, the "psychotic Sabretooth."  
  
"The real you couldn't smile for unredeemable monsters, that's how the flamin' frail put it – now – don't ya --," he looked around to see the hallucination was gone – Nothing more, just him, the cell and padded walls. He got rid of the hallucination – why wasn't he happy about it.  
  
...Because in the back of him mind, he wanted it to be a lie – what Torque said – that his mind was his only savior...  
  
...And someone other than himself saw something more in him than 'Sabretooth' the psychotic killer...


	45. Foundation of a Hardened Heart Part 4

The days turned into weeks as he thoroughly reminded himself how to act accordingly in front of certain individuals. When someone inferior than him (say Wild Child the poor excuse for a feral still couldn't speak or any of the frails around) walked next to him he had to growl in feral rage and give them a look of extreme anger; and even though he was unable to slash at them while being bound by mind blocks – the fear still wafted off the frails.  
  
He had to change that appearance when he stood in front of Agent Jackson, he didn't move – instead he listened to what's happening in the world today. Wars, terrorism, and anti-mutant sentiment, nothing that he cared about, he was a more personal killer anyways.  
  
Then there were times when he stood in front of Torque, two things either happened. One, the mind blocks were further instilled in his mind – to make sure he'd only intimidate frails, but kill on command. The second being tortured with inane drama to a certain degree. Torque (a.k.a. Jono) talked about his life with the X-Men. Those times he wished he could go against the frail and put a pretty hole where his pathetic mind still stood, but he could never go through with it (so the mind blocks worked pretty well).  
  
Torque talked about Jubilee constantly – the real one. Not the sarcastic, ill tempered, compassionate hallucination his mind created.  
  
Torque personally showed him her files, of course against the will of the new Director. She came to Weapon X not of her own accord at first, but she grew to be civil around here. She was meant to be an assassin, but her first field mission stated otherwise. That's files stated; however they were things he pounded into his head by Torque's incessant whining.  
  
'Jubilee' never appeared in front of him those days and, came to the conclusion that the boy subject of the mental tampering of mind implants. He asked Torque about the mind implants he got in his head, and was sure that the frail would revel in the chance to bring it up – but Torque stood there silent most of the time and changed the subject to something boring like 'Paige' or 'Angel' till finally he growled at him to get over it – that no one would love a freak like him. The frail never brought it up again and he forgot where some of his safe houses where. No problem, he could always buy more when he got out of here.  
  
His mannerisms, look, temper and thoughts returned to being 'Sabretooth' the psychotic killer. He plotted a way to get out of this hellhole and get back to killing random people on the street. This is the goal he had to focus on.  
  
Not to annoy a hallucination...  
  
Not to teach a hallucination to be stronger...  
  
Just be free and kill...  
  
The excitement of getting back to his old life became apparent when he destroyed everything that they threw at him in training sessions; yet, when it came to real frails, he hesitated. A part of his mind didn't want to kill them and it wasn't the mind blocks that Jono put in. He'd look at the weak humans he was ordered to kill but he couldn't lift a finger to slit their throat. He didn't know why he acted in such a way, but the reason he gave to his superiors was that they weren't worthy to die by his hands and let Jono or Wild Child takes care of the insignificant bastards.  
  
He tore up the shifting room those days, only to see it form back to it's original state. He once again attained his feral nature that made him feel good about the hunt.

----

The nightmares that tormented him before the hallucinations started. He tossed and turned when the tortured bloody faces with their twisted hands came after him. The knock on the door woke him from his nightmares. His body drenched in sweat as he approached the door with a growl meeting the person that always met him when he got up.  
  
Rise and shine bloke, Jackson wants to call you out, that could only mean one thing – field mission. He followed the firefrail out the door without a second thought, Need a towel.  
  
Creed only sneered as they walked passed the other cells; he popped his claws in and out as they reached Jackson's office. They walked in as they were greeted by a weasel's smile.  
  
"Victor, I finally think you're ready for something that is worth your 'kill'," The man sat still in his seat as he clicked a remote control and a monitor came from the ceiling and behind the Agent Jackson. A sun burnt, khaki wearing, chubby little man suddenly appeared on the screen, "This hapless fool has been trying to find the location of this facility for a couple of years now and he's been out here for weeks –,"  
  
"Ya want me ta gut him," Creed let out his typical reaction as he popped his adamantium-laced claws. This chubby little guy would be perfect to gut inside out – so much blood and guts would stain nature today. Yeah, today would be fun – it would.   
  
"No, something worse," Agent Jackson let out his own nasty smirk as he clicked and the screen shoed the man taking a picture of the place, "We know he's working for someone, but our best hackers couldn't find out who hired him."  
  
Creed nodded as he felt the same adrenaline for the kill rise up, "So we wait till he gets to a town, makes the call then wham blood and guts galore." Creed pounded his fist into his hand – outlaying the plain his experience gave him.  
  
"Right, Torque will go with you so you don't betray us, understand," Jackson ordered as Creed looked over the half-faced telepath.  
  
Ain't going to be a problem, Ol' Creed looks like he would kill anything – except for us of course, the firefrail piped in as something on the screen got Creed's attention. To the normal naked eye, the chubby guy just stood there like an idiot eating Doritos; yet he looked farther in the frame. In the corner of the screen, he saw a small being pass by – of course the chubby man didn't see it and it was a flash. Creed was probably seeing things.  
  
Then she came into view...  
  
Well actually her whole face enveloped the screen, she gave the camera the raspberry and the middle finger and she was off. Torque and Agent Jackson didn't see it, but he did. Stricken at seeing the hallucination again, Creed grasped his head. Reminding him that what he saw was fake – and nothing more.  
  
"Something wrong Victor," Agent Jackson asked in an unconcerned tone. All he could do is growl.  
  
"Nothing frail – are we goin' ta set up the base of operation in the town or not," he asked for the next aspect of the plan that Jackson would problem bring up. With half his attention on the actual plan, Creed let his other half reconnect him back to reality.  
  
Sabretooth, psychotic killer...  
  
Nothing would change that, not even these hallucinations – he repeated over and over again.

This should be a breeze won't it, the firefrail announced as he led the feral behind him. Creed didn't like being treated like this, but the mind blocks made him unable to put a claw against the firefrail.  
  
"Let's just get this over with" Creed just let out a guttural insistence as they approached a metallic door. He wanted to kill already. He popped his claws in and out as the door opened slowly. Growling, he ripped the door to shreds as he went in first. He turned around when he heard laughing in his head.  
  
Jubilee busted down that same door, cost a lot of money those days, the firefrail walked behind the feral as the door started to materialize back into it's metallic form. Everything formed back into its original state when Creed destroyed it. He growled at the sight of the reforming door as he let Jono take the lead.  
  
That's when he processed what the firefrail said. Jubilee this and Jubilee that, he grew impatient with it, "Look is this yer way of annoyin' me 'cuz it's not workin'!" he tried to suppress the growl that came from the pit of his stomach. Once again he heard the firefrail laugh in his head.  
  
I had to talk to Jackson because he wanted to kill you, why trust someone that betrayed him a long time ago? the firefrail avoided the statement as Creed now growled at that statement, but I talked 'im out of it – why? the firefrail got up in his face. Creed could only growl as he tried his best to lift a claw at the annoyance, because I told him that I could torture this bloke everyday for the rest of his miserable life – and it seems like it's working.  
  
Creed tried to lunge at the firefrail, but his mind stopped him from doing that action. The only thing he could do is snarl as he took out a piece of the wall – satisfied that it wouldn't come back to its original form.  
  
He followed the firefrail to the many vehicles lying around down here. He went over the plan as he tried to find a loophole to get away.  
  
First, they had to follow the man to where he parked his car. They checked out that Geo Metro and nothing suspicious was with it. Next, they would have to follow the car to town – which was a good seventy-five miles away. Lastly, check into the motel where the chubby man stayed and wait for the employer to come pick up the photos.  
  
And that's where the killing will begin...  
  
Since 'Torque' had control of who's, when's and what's, he had to figure out a loophole within the first two objectives. His best bet was to get away in the fury of battle – that way he had a whole town to hide in – full of people and distant thoughts. He hated people, but he'd use them to his advantage.  
  
This is it, Torque pulled out the car keys and Creed just sneered at the car of choosing – a Volkswagen Bug.  
  
"I ain't drivin' in that garbage," Creed sneered as he got in the firefrail's face. He knew that he didn't have a choice, but it didn't mean he didn't have to comply with it.  
  
You're not driving bloke, I am – you're the passenger, Creed growled as the firefrail opened the door for him.  
  
"If you didn't blow up that ugly face of yers I know you'd be smilin'," Creed slammed the door as he saw the gothic broody boy walk to the driver seat – point for him. Light started to peer into the area as the firefrail started the car. They drove through the light and saw the green grass and the sun for the first time in weeks.  
  
Shielding his eyes to the new experience, he looked over to the forest. This is the same exact place where he took out the firefrail a couple weeks ago. The same place where his delusions got the better of him.  
  
They were only mind implants...  
  
The thought made him look out in the forest even deeper. He dreamt about passing illusion – nothing else. The scenery slowly changed to one of nature, to one of man. He looked ahead of him to see that the highway out in front of him. They parked on the side – the man was still packing his stuff into that crappy Geo Metro anyway.  
  
So what did the firefrail decide to do? He put on the radio and it started blare out something that would usual make him cool down a little.  
  
"Can ya turn this crap off – ain't goin' ta –,"  
  
Hey I thought you liked Johnny Cash, you yanks like him so much – that I've gotten used to him, the firefrail turned up the volume as they listened to something that brought him down, but he couldn't dwell on it too long. – since, gratefully, the car they supposed to be tailing zoomed right by them.  
  
'Torque' followed quickly as they where one-step closer to killing this bastard and his employer. Something on top of the Geo Metro made Creed sit up straight.  
  
Was that a dog tail hanging wagging under that blue tarp on the roof – or more precisely a Labrador tail.  
  
He blinked to see it was still there, then in a second it vanished within the confines of the tarp. Creed shook his head – just implants...just implants...

Twenty minutes on the road, trailing a Volkswagen Bug and listening to Johnny Cash on the radio. A part of his mind wanted to rip this Torque a new hole in his body, but of course his body didn't correspond with the thought. The torture showed now signs of giving up now. He just focused on the town they were in.  
  
Eerie, Pennsylvania – how quaint...  
  
Creed looked at how the sun exemplified the skipping children they were walking by. He growled and bared his teeth at them. The children quickly went out of view as he saw the fear in their faces. He smiled as he looked forward to see they lost the sight of the Geo Metro.  
  
"Hey firefrail, where the car go," Creed asked obviously as he looked around. His first kill in a while would be on the hapless fat poor excuse of a --.  
  
We're staying somewhere else remember, the firefrail told him as if he were a child. Creed growled as stage three of the plan stood into effect.  
  
The firefrail suddenly turned off the radio as he heard the driver mentally sigh in his mind, I felt two minds in that car, his and a child – but I couldn't see the child anywhere in his car – bloody 'ell, we got to deal with children again – I mean I'm... Creed drowned out the angst ridden, self-absorbed explanation and thought about what he saw at the beginning of this hellish drive.  
  
A Labrador's tail hanging out from the blue tarp on the roof, compound that thought with what the firefrail added. No, it couldn't be the boy. The firefrail probably thought that intentionally in order to get a rise out of Creed – it worked.  
  
He sneered as he looked out the window. They approached the parking lot of a dilapidated motel with its sign of 'vacancy' blinking at him.  
  
...and that's why we need to do this without anybody seeing us. We're here! the firefrail exclaimed as Creed's thoughts went back to reality. Creed didn't hesitate as he got out of the car.  
  
That's when the stench of drugs, sex and violence entered his senses. This was his world, but he'd been away for it for it for so long that it kind of swept him in quickly, as he stepped back leaning on the car.  
  
Wot, coming back from nature and training made you a sissy? Oh and don't scratch the paint – we just got that, he heard the firefrail taunt in his mind as he made sure he scratched the hood before going towards the lobby. He smelled the firefrail following from behind.  
  
As Agent Jackson ordered, Creed had to do the talking. He didn't talk to the manager of the place long before he got the room they needed to spy on the target. As he grabbed the keys out of the mans hands, he took notice at the glare the skinny man gave both of them He growled as he made a mental note to seriously hurt that guy after he escapes from Weapon X.  
  
For now he played the good Boy Scout and went towards the room. Creed put the key in and opened the door. This room looked like the room where he stayed in, when Jubilee sang that – he blinked a looked again. The room changed appearances.  
  
Wot no carrying me over the threshold, Torque was in a good mood for someone who didn't have a face and moped about it a couple of minutes ago, or is it that this dump felt too cozy now?  
  
Creed put two and two together as he took the bag Torque held and ripped out the binoculars out of it.  
  
Touchy aren't we, his voice taunted in his head. When he got out of this he'd so kill the bastard. He looked from the vantage point and sure enough a good clean view of that prey lounging around.  
  
"The target is doin' nothin' right now," Creed informed Torque, who lay on the bed looking at the static on the television.  
  
The firefrail turned and looked him straight in the eye Wot?  
  
Creed growled as he had about enough of Torque, "He ain't doin' nothin'!" Creed informed while trying to hold back his anger.  
  
He hadn't felt like this in a while. The urge to kill Torque, that bastard that gave him a glare, those children that were happy and that fat prey of his ran through his mind.  
  
This was a good thing. Keeping those thoughts fresh in his mind meant that the mind blocks where wearing down and started to beoame overpowered by his might; yet, he couldn't let on that he knew about this. His free will was at stake.  
  
Good, Torque replied as he flipped the channel to the current news. He heard the news blare out as the monotone voice warned of some emergency warnings.  
  
_News flash, The Slasher strikes again..._  
  
Creed's ears perked when he heard that name – the same exact name used to describe all those killings when he was at Iggy's house. Listening closely to the news, he kept one eye on his prey. That eye started to twitch uncontrollably as Creed looked away from his target. Some things burned corneas just by looking straight at it. Creed turned away as he let the target dress in privacy. So far the targets action were normal: he slept a while, ate a while, took a shower for a long while (he didn't watch) and now took a while to get dressed.  
  
Creed turned his attention to something that fascinated him more. He heard the end of that report and they stated more at six.  
  
Wot's the status on the target, he herd the firefrail's voice ask in his mind. He sneered as he could never get used to that. He had to escape soon, his reputation as a lone killer was on the line, but for now he'd play this little game.  
  
"He's about to move," he informed grittily as he stood up, "ain't goin' ta stay here while the prey is movin'," he growled as they had a good ten minutes to get out and trail that fat fool.  
  
Hold on, they're going to talk about The Slasher now, Jono got up off the bed as they watched the screen change to a lanky reporter in a trashy suit.  
  
_Top story tonight, The Slasher strikes again. The notorious killer eluded officials in the New York area. The serial killer, who only targets blonde males in their thirty's, have left his calling card in the Pennsylvania area..._  
  
Bloody 'ell could that be Logan? the firefrail asked in his mind. This is the lure he needed to find out the truth. The simple question would be Torque's downfall.  
  
"What I saw this once when –,"  
  
You're at that boys house – I know, I read your mind – but you also... so the trap has sprung. Not only did Torque deny the existence of mind implants taking over his mind the past months, he confirmed the one thing that plagued his mind for the time he was held at the Weapon X compound.  
  
The boy was real...  
  
And if the boy was real then...  
  
C'mon let's go, Torque turned off the television as he walked out the door. If his suspicions where correct, than why didn't she appear to him to deny his original statement.  
  
Confused but determined, Creed followed the firefrail out the door.  
  
"Jubilee if yer here give me a sign," he warily asked as he closed turned off the lights and closed the door. He sniffed the night air and that's when he smelled it – the boy was here. He didn't catch it earlier since he was stuck making sure that bastard didn't go anywhere.  
  
Growling, he headed towards the car with the impatient Torque waiting for him. He been through a roller coaster of emotions and he'd deal with them tonight.  
  
---  
  
"There," Creed pointed out to the man getting out of the building. He noticed the man look around cautiously while holding a manila envelope. Info on the Weapon X compound probably in it.  
  
Lets go, the cocky fool ordered, not realizing the plan that Creed had in his mind. He'd let the firefrail go in first, then thinking Creed was under his hold – he'd just escape through the back. The plan was simple, not his style, but the most effective way to go. When he got away, the boy would find him and with him...  
  
He had to focus now and not let his head be up in the clouds. All that mattered was the things where clearer...or where they. Though his actions where those of the cold and calculated assassin, Sabretooth, he had so much internal strife that began when he got in Weapon X...  
  
Wait, it all started when...  
  
Victor, are you paying attention or wot, the firefrail next to him asked in his head angrily. He sneered as he noticed the man they trailed went into a deep dark alley. They followed him inside, making sure that no one followed them.  
  
That's when their target took notice of them. The fat man couldn't go anywhere as Creed could smell the fear rising in the man – he liked doing that. They walked slowly towards the man without hesitation. Creed knew that any puny human behind that door would be no match for him.  
  
He smelled the sweat drip down from the man as the door opened. The frightened being ran inside, closing the door behind him.  
  
Creed growled as he ran up to the door and slashed it down – his prey wouldn't get away so easy. When the door shattered into pieces death wafted in the air. Not new death, but a lingering feeling that's been here for days.  
  
Good job bloke, lets get this over with, and for the first time in the past couple of weeks, he agreed with the no faced bastard. Time to implement his plan into –  
  
The smell...  
  
The boy was here, his blood spattered on the wall next to him. He saw the handprint covered in blood on the pieces of the shattered door.  
  
He growled as he followed the firefrail inside.

Following the tracks of spattered blood and the scent of fear in low-lit conditions, they continued their search for the employer and the fat employee. Creed growled as the small handprints appeared on the pipe. Whoever hurt the boy would have to answer to him.  
  
He had first dibs...  
  
Anything your sniffer picks up, the firefrail asked him in a demeaning tone. Creed sniffed the air and sneered.  
  
"Meat, blood and fear – the good things yer missin' out," he gave a smirk as they continued on into the darkness. The temperature started to drop, Creed felt the chill hit his body. Creed involuntarily shivered.  
  
Wot, wot's going on, so he had a little advantage over the firefrail – he could feel.  
  
"Freezin' off here firefrail, ain't expectin' ya to feel anythin'," Creed informed the dubious being as he could've sworn he could make out a scowl through that bandaged face of Torque. Not caring, Creed continued to go forward. The sight of blood spattered on iron poles would've sparked the intrinsic feral in him, yet it he didn't feel that bloodlust.  
  
He knew the blood splattered on the iron pipes, on the floor and on the wall were the boys. Dread, something he shouldn't be feeling entered into his mind..  
  
"Y...yeah...I got the stuff," he heard an unfamiliar voice echo from the darkness. This probably was the fat employee, "T..Two guys are following me, you know the info is legit – so give me the money and lets go!" the pathetic man's whimpering just confirmed his suspicions.  
  
Gesturing to Torque, he went forward towards the distant echo.  
  
"W..we got to hurry...they could be..." Creed wouldn't let that fat bastard and the person responsible for doing this. He'd kill them, kill them good. Jubilee would find out though. He shrugged – she wouldn't mind if he killed the guy responsible for hurting the boy, and he'd just say the fat bastard was collateral damage.  
  
"W..Why...is that filthy mutie bleeding over there," Creed knew the fat bastard was referring to his boy. Growling he hurried ahead, only to be stopped by searing pain going through his mind.  
  
Did you forget, I'm in charge 'ere. Creed violently tried to escape this imprisonment, he turned to glare at the telepath, Why don't you be a good pet and just stay 'ere for a sec. Torque turned to leave him here to go check out the haunting echoes. Creed didn't have the capacity to move. He tried snarled and growled as he felt the tearing of his mind.  
  
"L...Look I'm leaving now...so...what are you going to do with those...no...no!" Creed heard a scream and a gurgle. The person that hired the fat bastard probably killed him. That was his kill, so he had to pay this employer back two times over.  
  
The silence surrounded him. The sickening sound of blood dripping off the pipes got his attention. As he tried to break free of the mind control he heard a loud boom in the around twenty-five feet from here.  
  
So the firefrail tried his luck against the employer Damn, he needed to get up. He felt the grip on his mind just shatter. Apparently the firefrail wasn't so tough after all.  
  
He got up running. He didn't know where he was going. The only thing on his mind was to kill. Kill whoever killed the fat bastard and kill whoever hurt his boy...  
  
His boy...  
  
He didn't dwell on the thought too much as he got a whiff of what could've done the carnage.  
  
Logan was here...  
  
No surprise to him. 'The Slasher' had struck close to here and his assumptions where never wrong. What part of Logan would he see this time? The first time he didn't see him at all – Jubilee made sure of that. The second time, the feral nature of the runt took over too much – so the fight was a waste of his time.  
  
Now as he turned the stretch, blood spattering on his shoes, he wondered what shape the runt would be in this time.  
  
The carnage lay before him like an artist gallery. He looked at the meat hooks all around dangling in anticipation. He smelled the fat bastard to the right, he didn't have to move very far to see that the hooks carried something heavy. The same marks on the body where of those of what 'The Slasher' would do.  
  
Lying on the floor below that body was the damn telepath that controlled his mind. He didn't know if the firefrail was alive or not – it didn't breath. Then he saw the perpetrator of all this staring him in the eyes.  
  
The eyes of no remorse and psychotic rage entered deep into his soul.  
  
"Well bub, I've been searchin' for you – me an' Jubilee will take you down..." the runt eerily smiled at him.

"I killed her runt, ya can't take me down even if Jubilee was here," he yelled at the runt. He saw the runts face twist in agony, but then turned into a twisted smile. The runt actually started laughing.  
  
Perplexed, Creed held his ground. Usually, an opportunity he'd attack the runt head on for showing an opening; yet, now, he thought what if. What if the runt actually saw her? He wanted her to get out of his life, but not enter his rival's life. What if the night (or day) he said she was just a hallucination, that it made her only be seen by the runt instead of him...  
  
"Ya thought ya killed her Creed," the runt already had his claws out raring to fight, "but I see her – she's here, can't you see her?" the runt yelled at him, pointing in the darkness of the meat locker. Creed looked around and he couldn't see her. Her smell wafted to his senses. Was the runt right? She could be alive, but he killed her. Her spirit haunted him and only him.  
  
The sounds of pumps hitting concrete made Creed weary. If anything, someone else was here that smelled of Jubilee. When did Jubilee ever wear pumps? That's when she appeared in the hazy light.  
  
She stood as tall as the Asian firecracker, but something was off by an inch. Her hair, dark as the midnight sky, didn't flow right. The trench coat yellow as the sun, but it was never that bright. Her pumps matched her outfit, and when did it ever?  
  
"Fur ball, we're takin' ya down," she threw some fireworks at him, but he easily dodged. So she looked like Jubilee, she talked like Jubilee and she had the same powers of Jubilee; yet, there was something off with her.  
  
He growled as he looked at a raging Wolverine slathering his way. He threw a nearby meat hook directly at his face, making direct contact – that didn't stop the runt though. He barely dodged the slice to his face as he kneed the runt in the stomach and threw him to the other side of the room.  
  
He felt the sting of fireworks hit him hard. He flew back as a meat hook deeply slashed into his back. The pain, only temporary, healed.  
  
Her laughter filled the cold meat locker. That wasn't her laugh. He never heard her with such venom and such maliciousness. She stepped forward when it became perfectly clear why he felt something was off with her.  
  
Her eyes, they were red...  
  
She put up her hands and tried to blast him again. He dodged that time but he felt something tackle him from behind. He found himself trying to get the runt off him. Cheers of Jubilee being echoed in the frosty room as he felt the runt slash his chest. He yowled in pain as he looked back.  
  
His eyes widened as he saw the boy hung up on a meat hook. He heard the drop of blood hit the floor as the pool of blood started to form. The clothes tattered as liquid dropped from the scars like dripping faucets. He heard the boy's faint heartbeat, but he didn't move.  
  
"Iggy," he called out his name. He heard his heart hastily pound in his head as he felt the slashes being dealt to by the runt. The pain became inconsequential for the first time in his life. He roared in anger as he lifted the runt easily and threw him towards the direction to the facade that taunted him. They both didn't see it coming.  
  
He ran over to Iggy, unhooking the boy from his pain.  
  
"Creed...that's not me...she couldn't be me..." that was Jubilee. He knew she inhabited the boy's body. Her disbelief she sputtered out, crimson liquid being coughed up.  
  
Creed cradled Iggy in his arms, looking around hastily to find the nearest exit. He looked over to see the runt looking over the farce with great detail.  
  
"Darlin' I'm sorry, are you okay, you'll be okay..." the runt kept consoling the wrong being as he decided the best way out was the way they went in. He could always deal with the runt later and he would.  
  
He started to run out the door. Things began to become warmer; Iggy bleed on him and it wouldn't stop. Jubilee didn't feel pain, she could answer his question.  
  
"Jubilee what happened to Iggy?" he growled for an explanation. He knew that the bleeding form in front of him had one.  
  
Jubilee inside Iggy's body tried to spill out a sentence, but blood spilled out instead. The boy's heart rate steadily decreased Creed growled, as he knew what he had to do. Tonight, he kept note of names and the places.   
  
Everyone would pay...


	46. Season Finale

Red and blue lights intertwined in the hazy night sky. Never had he gone to this place willingly, but with the slowing heartbeat he felt in his hands – it didn't seem like he had a choice. He deemed the automatic sliding doors too slow as he kicked it down, glass shattering everywhere.

They called for security; he heard it over the loud speaker. He just trudged his way past them with ease as he got over to a plastic window.

"Just sign the forms here and it'd be a two hour wait," the nurse had the audacity to ask him.

"The boy is goin' ta die if ya don't move yer fat ass behind that desk and help 'im," he growled out as he saw the nurse look up at him in horror. Without warning, two medical people came up and took the boy onto a gurney.

Creed followed, against the doctor's wishes, the moving gurney. When the other medical officials yanked out the clothes from of the boy, he smelled disgust along with Iggy's blood.

"Eww, it's a muta –" before that nurse could finish that sentence, he flung her to the other side of the hall. Growling and giving a glare to everyone else, and no one said a word.

"Sir, the boy is FY-A negative blood type, we don't have that blood typ --," The other nurse was going to announce, but Creed slashed his arm as blood poured down to the floor.

"Mine is that type frail, do it now," he ordered as the shaken attendant did what he told her to do. The attendant took him to a room as the people working on Iggy went to another. Actually, he didn't know what his blood type was, for all it could matter it could be anyone else; but something ticked inside of him that stated it'd better to give the boy a chance with his blood rather than no chance at all.

As he felt the needle go into his vein, he saw his own blood go into a pouch.

"Is this your son?" the attendant asked weakly as Creed only replied with a growl that shut her up. Iggy wasn't his son – just his protégé.

The pouch was full in a matter of seconds as the attendant silently took the needle out and the pouch and headed towards out the door.

"Sir! Please wait in the waiting room," she mumbled quickly as she went straight off to where Iggy fought for his life. He couldn't just sit in a waiting room full of frails he didn't have patience for. He got up and walked towards the room.

"Nurse, transfuse the blood already!" the doctor demanded as he heard the fumbling of tools. Creed hastily went in the room, to find the Iggy connected with tubes and wires throughout his body. The familiar lines of the machine that checks heart rate were sporadic. Sometimes it would go down and sometimes it would go flat.

Creed seen the lines all the time, some employers would want him to kill the victim while they where in the hospital. At the time he found it amusing to see the lines slowly turn flat and that annoying beep lingered in his ears.

He saw it – the line became flat. He heard it – that annoying ringing sound. He looked down at Iggy, someone he proclaimed as his protégé in his mind, become still. He only heard the ringing sound in his head as he saw the commotion in slow motion. They tried to resuscitate.

That's when Creed saw it. Iggy's spirit flew out from its body. Creed could only stare as the spirit of Iggy realized what was going on, he looked down and then looked straight at Creed. Everything became silent, the ringing of the machine, the hustle of medical technicians – everything – he heard what Iggy had to say to him.

I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough…

Iggy gave a weak smile as though to coincide with his apology. Even in the face of death, Iggy was still that polite kid. Iggy then turned his attention to down below as another spirit suddenly appeared next to Iggy's one – Jubilee's.

Don't be sorry Igster, seems like it ain't yer time ta go…

He heard her voice comforting Iggy. Her sudden gaze turned to Creed, as she gave a confident smile.

Igster, why dontcha go in there already, ain't yer time yet…

She gently pushed the boy, and it seemed like Iggy lost his balance. The spirit of Iggy went back inside its twisted shell.

Good…

She said to herself as she floated over to a dumbstruck Creed. His gaze followed the specter as she stood next to him. He felt her confidence and her warmth -- a familiar feeling.

"The boy's gonna be all right," she whispered in his ear. Even though he hadn't seen her in two weeks, thought of her as an illusion at first, and for a time hated her, he knew that she wasn't lying.

He trusted her...

"We got a pulse…" One of the nurses happily rang out, "He stabilized."

"Sir didn't you hear, the boy stabilized," the nurse called for the sullen feral again. He should be happy, Iggy was going to make a full recovery in a couple of days – or so that's what should happen; and, when he looked over Iggy, he could distinctly see the scars healing quicker to his amazement. The kid must have got something from him and he calculated that it'd only be a matter of a few hours before he, Iggy and the specter got on their way.

Yet he wasn't happy…

Rage boiled inside him and he didn't know what made him so angry. He felt blood flowing through his veins and he had a hard time trying not to growl at the people that saved Iggy's life. He started to walk away when the doctor stood in front of him with papers.

"Sir we need your insurance, the name of your son, the --," and before the doctor could look at Creed, the man was pushed to the ground. Creed eyed the doctor as he started to stalk the helpless being below him.

"Creed…Creed! ya need ta calm down, ya don't want any more attention than what ya got already," her spirit stood in front of her. He looked around. Guards surrounded the place with nightsticks at arms.

Creed would easily take care of these frails with one hand tied around his back, but then he looked over at Iggy, lying there. Grimacing, he took the form off the ground and stormed away.

He walked a couple of minutes, aimlessly wandering the hospital. He wanted to ask Jubilee what was going on. First, the runt appeared here with the façade of Jubilee. Second, Iggy looked he'd been through a meat processing machine. When he looked around to see that she wasn't there. He decided to look at the list presented in front of him – just to do something.

Patient Name…

He called Iggy "boy" the whole time they knew each other. He didn't know the boy's last name – only the first. They didn't talk to each other much.

Patient Age…

He didn't know Iggy's true age. The boy looked young and her never really gave a damn about him. Something swelled inside of him that he pushed away a long time ago. He didn't have time for these 'feelings' and he looked at the next item on the list.

Patient Sex…

Male, Creed smirked when he thought about the experiences before he got captured in Weapon X. He called it 'tradition' just to annoy Jubilee all those months ago, yet he let Iggy partake on the festivities. The look on Jubilee's face made his smirk grow wider. He looked around once again to see if Jubilee was near by – she wasn't. All he saw where the sickly frails sauntering to their pathetic rooms. Sniffing the air on disgust he went down the list to the next item.

Guardian Name…

Victor Creed, he automatically responded in his mind. Wait – did he just say his own name for this form? When he realized his response, he growled and threw the list onto a chair.

Sabretooth is a killer of the worst kind. Sabretooth killed people for fun without remorse. Sabretooth killed children like Iggy for a cash amount. Sabretooth killed Jubilee, Iggy's hardened supporter, with one swipe of that adamantium claw and he smiled afterwards.

He didn't take care of snot nose brats. He wasn't qualified to deal with snot nose brats. He then noticed the man cleaning up the blood that spilled on the floor earlier tonight – Iggy's blood and his own.

He wasn't Sabretooth when he barged in here looking for help for Iggy. Victor Creed looked for help. Victor Creed cut up his own arm to give his blood to Iggy so that his protégé would live.

Victor Creed became scared when Iggy flat lined…

Thinking about the issue made his head hurt. He saw the exit out of this hospital and took it. The snow falling on concrete suddenly surrounded him. He looked and saw the specter of Jubilee looking out in parking lot.

"Seein' Wolvie again…" she tried to start off but she floundered. Even without asking, Jubilee prepared to give him the lowdown on what happened the last two weeks. She shook her head as Creed went over to her.

"Someone took over my body and made Wolvie regain his humanity – ya know I just wish it was really me," the breath in her voice was like a distant dream. She didn't make eye contact with Creed.

Her snapshot comments would rile him up more than what he should feel; however, he stayed inclined to listen as his own thoughts came to mind. His mind became focused as questions started to pop up in his head. Why didn't she appear to him those two weeks? What happened to Iggy? What happened to her? Why was there a Jubilee with red eyes hanging out with the runt?

He thought of the questions, but couldn't grasp a single one. She looked over to him and gave a wayward smile.

"Thanks, Creed for takin' the Igster here, he missed ya when ya where gone," he knew that she couldn't find the words to express her emotions, but at the moment she told him that Iggy missed him, and for once he felt that the feeling was mutual.

Words weren't necessary at the moment and to anyone staring at the big blonde feral known as Victor Creed would've thought him to be somewhat at peace with himself. He felt the warmth of her presence as clouds of smoke left his mouth.

He felt something cold against his cheek as he looked up. White dots that formed up in the sky started to come down slowly and individually. For him, the absence of heat didn't bother him; however, he shivered a little bit. A smile, not a toothy one or a shady one, came over his hardened and aged face. The snow glided over and landed on him and he did nothing to take them off.


	47. Thanks and Story Analysis

Reflection in a Pool of Blood and Tears

Since this fanfiction archive isn't allowing "Author's Notes" this section is dedicated to some things not "Author's Notes" related: The thanks of all those that have supported me throughout the writing of The Ties that Bind, an essay inspecting psychological and emotional development with the main players, and thoughts about what'll happen in the future.

If you are an unfortunate reader hoping to find another part of my story, you will not find it here. If you did leave a review of my story, then 'find' your name down this and do what you like. I will begin by giving my thanks to all that have reviewed my story in chronological order on how I received them:

Tokyo Fox: You were the first comments I had when I published this story on Along the way, you sent more comments on how the story should go and what it should be classified as. Although I found it irksome at first, I acknowledge that you do have valid points (too short of chapters, classification) that I've took in and changed as well; however, I did notice that you thought it'd be another angsty "Jubilee Suicide" story. I've read a lot of those and frankly, I just got tired of the angsty part of suicide…if that makes sense – I wanted to steer far away from that as possible…Anyways, I thank you telling me what's on your mind.

B Oots: My staunch reviewer, I don't think there was a chapter that you haven't reviewed. When I felt this story wasn't worthy of any reader, your review just made me want to keep going. Haha, even though some chapters had one review (being yours of course) I still look forward to your reply to it. I thank you very much for being there.

Jaenelle Angelline: Well, the current mistress of Jubliee fanfiction. Always having ideas and always writing them so well that it makes my head spin. Your comments are always welcome, they're giving me ideas on fanfics with Jubilee and Sabretooth involved – actually, I think by the time I write my ideas – you'll be up to your 89th story…hahaha. Thank you for reviewing and stating which parts made you want to read more of it.

Badgerwolf: I hope my portrayal hasn't disappointed you. Writing Jubilee torturing Sabretooth was very fun; however, she had to evolve into more than a being of pure torture. If you didn't like my way of evolving her, then I understand. Also you're the first reviewer that had some sort of interest in my original character – thanks for reviewing and I appreciate the acknowledgement of my character.

Wolvster: I read on your bio that you love Wolverine. I just wanted to write him in another light. Thanks for reviewing.

Andaria: Ah an honest criticism about chapter length. Even though it took me longer to re-read and edit a whole lot of my writing. I'm pleased with the decision to make chapters longer than they were. Thanks for reviewing and the criticism.

GoddessChild: Classification wise, I think my story is pretty general. It has it's drama moments along with it's funny moments along with it's action moments along with its…well you get the idea. Jhonen Vasquez is such a big influence in my writing, how can I not make an allusion to his? Thanks for noticing that one and thanks for reviewing.

Taurus: I think you're the first person that I noticed was on the e-mail updates list. I'm honored to be a part of it. Thanks for reviewing.

Hellion: Uh…thanks for reviewing (I'm sorry I don't have anything more to write than that)

Ayka: Ah, I've read some of your stories and read some of your reviews. You've been taking gruff by so many people. I just want to say that you have great ideas and you need a beta reader. Good luck in your future endeavors and thanks for the review.

Felidae: Ah, another mistress of Jubilee Fanfiction. I'm honored that I actually got a review from you and I know how much you hate Sabes as a character. I also know that you're looking for DarkSabretooth, he was a huge influence in my writing as well – if you do get a contact of him, please give him my regards. Thanks for reviewing.

Rogue14: I like it how you pointed out how Sabretooth broke his word. I like that a lot – you get magical browny points. Thanks for reviewing.

Eggman: I like my story as well  hahaha. Thanks for reviewing.

LEM: I actually read your profile and noticed that you haven't wrote in a while. You should get back into it. I hope I read stuff from you soon and thanks for reviewing.

Tracer197: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! That's all you get…Personally, I need to review whatever you write.

Imoen Leslati: Thanks…I mean it…it does mean a lot to me that someone acknowledges that I've done a whole lot of research for each main character (excluding my own). Thanks again for reviewing.

The reason I made my own chapter dedicated for the reviewers is because I didn't want to do it in the story because I wanted the focus to be on the story. I know it sounds selfish of me, but I didn't want readers to by bogged down by internal "Author's Notes" and become annoyed by it all and give up on reading the story.

However, I notice that not acknowledging my reviewers might've discouraged readership as well, but I took that chance and now I have to live with what I got.

Everyone again

Thank you

Character Analysis Within the Story The Ties That Bind

When great emotional epiphanies are resolved within a thousand-word story, two things occur – great writing or really horrible writing. While perusing through archives and archives of stories, I've come across both; however, it's not the good ones that stick, it's always the bad ones. Sabretooth repenting his ways in one sentence isn't a good story, Jubilee being spunky all the time is an injustice and Wolverine saving the day is redundant. So when the mighty muse woke me up 3 a.m. in the morning to write this story, I obliged, but I wanted to do things differently than the norm.

The premise isn't something new. Short story writers like Poe and current gothic writing have the beyond the grave experience; however, I wanted to take the light-hearted route with that. Now who to use as characters?

I've always had an affinity for the love/hate relationship. One being the constant foil to the other. In a normal situation, these two components would kill each other – they couldn't stand each other for long. The premise took care of any normality. The perfect characters I had in mind where Jubilee and Sabretooth.

Canon-wise, these two haven't seen much of each other. Of course they had their regular bouts at the X-mansion and as enemies and heroes, but nothing more than that. Sabretooth has a never-ending agenda to hurt Wolverine through the killing of the one he loves – Jubilee is just a subsequent part of that plan (along with Amiko, Jean Grey, Yukio…etc.) Jubilee, on the other hand, sees Sabretooth less than Emplate as far as danger is concerned. She's afraid of Sabretooth, but won't admit that publicly. The couple of times they faced together it's all about battle.

Then there was that "What If?" story about if Jubilee ever faced Sabretooth, who'd win. The story enforced the ferocity of Sabretooth and the cunning of Jubilee, but no standing relationship – what's a fanfic writer supposed to do?

I know that Canon wise, this story wouldn't work and I've accepted it, but I wrote the story as if it would be able to fit into canon without any problems. I'll admit though that there are a lot of plot holes that I could find (and if people find some, please feel free to point them out) and I'd like to explain some of them here.

For one, Jubilee's verisimilitude is very similar to one Wolverine; however, Jubilee ha a So Cal accent and has her own personality. Being dead and wanting to torture someone I'd think she'd use her mentor's voice in order to annoy him. Along the way, I've dropped out some wordings from her, some trinkets that made her more "Wolverine" and now showing her own.

Another is Sabretooth's training with the Foreigner. In the comics, he's the only man that he respects. In the story, he kills the very man he respects but not the kid that he's supposed to kill. I still think that it's a valid point. At the age he was in, it's already established that he killed a lot, but this is the first professional kill. Psychologically, one can escape when one thinks he killed because of a feral nature or madness, but when one takes in the fact that he/she killed because of personal choice, that deep inside that he/she is truly a monster – confusion occurs. Confusion that could lead to rash decisions.

However, this essay isn't about the plot holes within the story. This essay is about the character dissection within the story: Jubilee, who just died and within a few months starts to grow to trust the man that killed her, Sabretooth, who thought killed off his feelings finds out he still has them and deals with it by trying to kill them off again, Wolverine, the "failed samurai" who has failed time and time again – he's everywhere but couldn't save everyone, and Iggy, a boy who been hurt by everyone but finds comfort in a psychopath and a specter. Within a span of fifty thousand words, these characters change from their "canon stance" to something slightly different. Change cannot happen within a few months but lots of drama can. The very seed of change.

In life, she clung onto people and lifestyles that became pre-destined for her, and

in death, she finds more things to cling onto, why? Because Jubilee's character has been shattered over and over again. Her family died at 13, the love of her life died when she was…13. The man she saved abandoned her…at 13. There's nothing reliable in her life at 13 except for continually pain. In the story, Jubilee the reader has to fast forward and see the teen as a woman and die as one as well; however, the way she acts is not one of a lady. We find out she's a theatre arts major something that's she's been at in the comic books but never really successful as. She still has a relationship with her mentor and h as a semi-crush on him. Throughout the story, she defends the man even though there is consistent proof that he isn't the man that she saved when she was 13. The reader now has to wonder, has Jubilee ever matured at all? In death, she takes the verisimilitude of Wolverine – like a chick copying it's mother. She may or may not know how to release the bonds that tie her down to Sabretooth, but like a child, she holds it back – seeing her death as somewhat as a game rather than something serious. She empathizes with Iggy more like a child rather than someone of twenty-one years of age. There are moments in the story where she displays some maturity, when talking about her death, her life, her drama – yet trivializes others. In reality, she doesn't want to see the truth in herself, the people around her and life/death itself; but for now, she'll act the perpetual 13, until she's trapped in a corner and has to grow up.

The dual personality, yet only one has been mostly seen in the comics with the exception of his mini-series "Sabretooth: The Mary Shelley Overdrive" where the reader sees Sabretooth at his most compassionate when he collapses when he has to kill the woman he loves. In the story, The Ties that Binds, the Sabretooth portrayed in the beginning is that of the ever cunning, dangerous and murderous feral. His only instinct is to kill and abuse. Even with the disadvantage of having someone near him 24/7 that he can't get rid of, he constantly thinks of ways of using Jubilee to his advantage. Then when he's done thinking about that, he constantly thinks of way of getting rid of her. Is this the case though? In the story, he gives up most of what he does fairly simply. So what if the specter could take over his body? He's been in worse situations where living things where taking control over him – or maybe that's the problem. Time and time again, Sabretooth is shown as this pillar of evil intentions and monster ferocity, but people aren't born monsters. Being abused as a child, he stayed in a situation where he could escape the violence but decided to stay. He continues to feed that violent nature and he suckles it like mother's milk, but when it's taken away from him forcefully – all he does is angst about it. Sure he attains a kill and betrays the deal, but he doesn't gloat by making innuendos about it – he stays silent. A part of him needs to kill and another part of him needs permission to do it – a method to his madness. With everything, the decision to get rid of Jubilee, to keep on Iggy, to let things live or die – there has to be a reason – even if it's a mad one. This theory could be applied to everything that he's done and is essential to differentiate Wolverine from Sabretooth.

Wolverine is the "failed samurai" (Chris Claremont), and when he finds out his sidekick is dead he goes on a rampage, this is the only time where there has been a reason to do something in his life. Why was he an experiment in Weapon X? In Wolverine's perspective, no reason at all, he didn't deserve it. Why does all the people around him keep dying? In Wolverine's perspective, there is no justifiable reason; therefore, he didn't deserve it. He shifts the blame from one character to another. Whether it is Sabretooth for killing Jubilee, Slim for taking Red, or death amongst allies – he doesn't see himself responsible, so everything he does is justifiable. He's a failure because his justifications are skewed.

Now we get to my made character, Iggy. I'm trying so hard not to make him a "Gary-Stu" type situation. However, I agree that made characters are hard not to make them integral to the storyline – I am not the exception. In The Ties That Bind, Iggy has become the catalyst to emotions to all the named players above. Jubilee sees the boy as an equal, someone to talk to. Sabretooth sees him as various ways to get to Jubilee and sometimes sees him as a youthful version of himself, a feral in training. Wolverine sees him as a reminder of his failures and takes out his aggression on the boy. All these different definitions of whom he should be when he doesn't even know himself who he is. The character has "Gary Stu" elements to him, but that doesn't mean the character will stay static.

In The Ties That Bind, the seeds have been planted and characters have been already type-caste. Jubilee as the humorous jokester/dramatic angster, Sabretooth as the cunning feral/emotionless being who finds emotion and doesn't know what to do, Wolverine as the man who failed and needs to make things right, and Iggy a boy who needs to find his identity. These things will change and evolve into something more than expected.

In the next chapter of The Ties that Bind, Winter Promise, foreshadowing and death of fall has given way to the cold chill and stringent survival of winter which is the season where either the strong parts of a person survive and the weaker part dies off; but everything is bound by perspective ain't it. Sabretooth drags Jubilee and Iggy arounds parts of the country after the knowledge that every bounty hunter/secret agent/assassin that Wolverine can employ is after them. What's Sabretooth's agenda with Jubilee and Iggy and how is he going to deal with the emotions he thought he killed off? What's a specter to do when she finds out her mentor isn't all she supposed to be and will Jubilee ever find out who took over her body? Will Wolverine see the truth and find another way to deal with his emotions? Has Iggy recovered full healther and what is up with this sudden healing factor?

Then we have the X-Men, Weapon X, The Brotherhood, The Maurauders -- phew everyone has their own agenda. Let's find out which one will prevail, shall we?

Till next time (thanks for the brave souls who actually read this all the way through),

Magus101


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